


Motion Sickness

by justbubs



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, Mild Sexual Content, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Panic Attacks, Past Child Abuse, Slow Burn, Swearing, Underage Drinking
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-16
Updated: 2021-03-12
Packaged: 2021-03-18 14:08:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 31,724
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29491095
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/justbubs/pseuds/justbubs
Summary: “We’re here, Porco.”Here. A place he never wanted to see again.--This story follows Porco Galliard and Reiner Braun through all of the excitement of freshman year at Reiss University, a small private college tucked away in northeastern Marley. Who knows what the future holds?
Relationships: Reiner Braun/Porco Galliard
Comments: 40
Kudos: 128





	1. Move-in Day

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first time trying my hand at fanfiction (or really any narrative-based writing) so please bear with me as I try and get a handle on things! I had intended to get the first three chapters out by the end of Gallirei Week but two weeks of homework that I'd put off caught up with me.
> 
> My goal moving forward is to get one chapter out on a weekly basis, but that's subject to change if I find myself more (or less!) busy than expected. This whole thing basically came about one night when I was drinking and woke up the following morning with an 8000 word note on my phone detailing the story, so who knows! 
> 
> This is preemptively rated M with a sexual content tag, but nothing too explicit is happening yet. 
> 
> The only content warning for chapter 1 is just some relatively mild anxiety and angst :) Enjoy!

A hand bumps against his knee. He looks up from his phone, where he’s been mindlessly scrolling through social media for the past couple hours, not digesting any of it. His mom has turned to face him. He lets his headphones fall around his neck. “We’re here, Porco.” 

Here. A place he never wanted to see again. He’d paid no attention during the drive- the landscape was familiar, unfortunately. He could do without seeing the rolling hills, the small, picturesque towns, and the shaded roads covered by the arching canopies of oak trees, so unlike the city he’d grown up in. He could do without remembering the marvel on his brother’s face as they made this drive to move him in on his big day, two years ago that now felt like two lifetimes in the past. He could do without all of it. 

“Alright. I’ll go check in and come back for the rest of my stuff.” His mom nods, turning back to the front of the car. Nothing from the old man. Porco swings the car door open, stepping out into the stifling August heat. Even in the shade of the tall, brick dormitory looming over him, Porco can’t help but swelter under the summer air. Wasn’t the northeast supposed to be colder? He puts his backpack on, followed by an old grey duffel over the shoulder and another in his hand as he heads towards the main entrance. He steps into the lobby, finding it is just as inhospitable indoors as it is out. Perfect. Lovely. Awesome. It wasn’t this hot two years ago, but that’s just his luck. His eyes fall to a pop-up table in the center of the room, a short girl in a bright green shirt with “HONORS” across the chest standing at the ready behind it. 

“Welcome to Reiss University! Here to check in?” 

He steps up. “Yeah. Galliard. Porco. Third floor.” 

She flips through the binder in front of her, looking. “Right you are! Maria Hall room 328B.” Her shrill, excited voice hurts his ears. “Your roommate got here not too long ago. If you head to the left you can take the stairs to the B wing, and your room should be right across from the stairwell!” 

“Thanks.” He tucks his keys into his pocket, turning to leave. God help him if she tries to enlist him in book club or some other nonsense. 

“Oh! I forgot!” Porco pauses, half-turning back to face her, reluctantly. “Every freshman in Maria gets their own complimentary honors program shirt! What size are you? Large?” Porco eyes the bright green shirt she’s holding up to him, same as the one she has on. _Hell no._

“I’m uh, not in the honors program. Thanks.” 

Her smile is broken by a look of brief confusion, if only for a moment. “That’s okay! You should take one anyways! We’re all one big community here in Maria, honors or not!” 

“Is that a threat?” This time, her smile deepens into a frown. _Too far?_ “Joking.” Porco acquiesces, taking the shirt and heading out of the lobby to end the painful interaction. The shirt promptly lands in the garbage can he spots propping open the first-floor bathroom. _Over my dead body, lady._

Up the stairs he goes. 

* * *

328B. Two nametags are taped up on the old, wooden door. Reiner Braun. Porco Galliard. His stomach drops. _God help me now._

Porco swings the door open to find the left side of the room moved into. There’s a woman – Reiner’s mom, most likely – fussing with the sheets to make sure they’re perfectly neat. Her hair is manicured, a very light blonde-turning-white, set to match the white sundress she has on. As the door opens further, one Reiner Braun comes into view. 

The boy has his back to him, stuck in a fight with the window to get it open. He’s got on khaki pants and a white polo, the pants clinging to his legs due to sweat… and the fact that he’s absolutely huge. _You’ve gotta be shitting me._ Porco had stalked the guy online, or at least tried to. No Facebook, and his Instagram was private. He knew he was blonde from the profile picture, and had a stupid, fancy prominent nose, but that little image left a lot out it seemed. Porco didn’t think he’d be living with some beefcake. 

Mrs. Braun notices him first, tapping her son on the shoulder. “Sweetie, look who’s here.” _Sweetie?_

Reiner turns, having finally managed to get the window unstuck, but lets go of it in his rush to greet Porco. The window slams, loudly, back into place. Mrs. Braun winces. Completely unfazed, Reiner steps forward with a hand shooting out. “Porco, is it? I’m Reiner Braun. A pleasure to meet you.” He catches Reiner’s hand, immediately regretting it as their sweaty palms are crushed together by the blonde’s tight grip. Reiner’s hair shines with sweat, short and tousled and parted just off the middle. The sun is shining in through the window behind him, making it difficult for Porco to maintain eye contact. 

“Galliard. Uh, nice to meet you.” 

His gaze shifts to Mrs. Braun, whose pale blue eyes are busy giving him a once-over. Beat up gym shorts and an old white t-shirt aren’t what Porco would call dressing to impress, but it’s move-in day, and 85 degrees out. Who dresses up for that shit? 

The Brauns, apparently. 

Porco drops Reiner’s hand, resisting the urge to wipe the sweat off on his shorts. With a heave his duffel bags are onto his empty bed, and he’s turning to head back downstairs and away from any further judgment. Before he can escape, Reiner asks: “Do you and your family need any help with your luggage?” 

Porco doesn’t turn to answer, already halfway out the door. “Fine, thanks.” The door shuts. 

* * *

His mom turns towards him, a look he recognizes in her eye. “He seems… nice. I’m sure you’ll make a lovely pair of roommates.” 

“Yeah,” Reiner sighs. Galliard is probably just nervous about moving in. He turns back towards the window to renew his efforts, but his mom has other plans. 

“Reiner, stand in front of your bed so I can take a picture. I must get going if I’m to make it back home before dinner.” He poses without protest, mustering up a smile despite his ever-creeping anxiety. “Oh, you look so handsome and grown up.” She runs a hand up his arm, cocking her head as she smiles. It almost reaches her eyes. “Well, I’m off then. You have fun and focus on your studies. Once in a lifetime, Reiner! Call me if you need anything.” 

With that she’s out the door, nearly bumping into Galliard, who has somehow carried a mini fridge with a microwave stacked on top up the three flights of stairs. His mom lets out a “…good heavens” as she squeezes by, with a “You two have fun now!” following as she descends the stairwell. Galliard stands in the doorway, leaning backwards precariously as he struggles under the heavy load in his arms. 

Reiner rushes to assist him, catching the door on his back as the other boy almost crumples under the weight of the fridge. They guide the fridge to the ground, leaving Galliard doubled over, panting. “I… had it… thanks...” He remains silent, watching as another strand of his roommate’s slicked back, almost-brown hair falls out of place. _Of course you did._

* * *

Reiner tries to not watch too obviously as Galliard unpacks, but finds that he can’t pay any attention to his book while the brunette is moving about. “A Feast for Crows” isn’t exactly light reading either. The boy is shorter than Reiner had thought he’d be. And more… muscular, too. Perhaps he’d imagined him a bit too similar to Bertolt. It did feel weird not living with his best friend, but the two of them agreed that they’d be better off living separately for freshman year, if only to finally meet some new people. _I wonder if Bert is here yet. He’s probably fed up with his family by now._ He grins, imagining the scene of the Hoovers leaving their house for Reiss. All the bustling, the double-checking, the triple-checking. That’s just how they are. And as much as Bert would never admit it, that’s how he is too. 

Galliard is under the bed now, muffled swearing reaching Reiner’s ears about how the fridge won’t kick on. As Reiner scans his side of the room, he can’t help but note the lack of any decorations on the other boy’s wall. _Did I put up too much? Is he going to think I’m weird?_ He’d only hung up one tapestry, a couple of his favorite Superman volumes, and a picture of him, Bertolt, and his mom at their high school graduation. _Maybe the photo is a little much._

The picture comes off the wall easily, held up only by tape. Reiner slips it under his pillow. 

* * *

Porco kicks the last duffel bag under his bed, plopping down in his desk chair to observe his work. _Clothes, sheets, fridge, microwave. All in order._ He toes his sneakers off and leans back to prop his feet up on the bed post, fishing his phone out of his pocket. He can feel Reiner staring at him, clearly not interested in the book he’s got up on his bed. The book closes, as if on cue. 

“Was it a long drive for you?” the blonde asks. _What kinda question is that?_

“…Not really.” He opens Instagram and begins to scroll. 

“I sent you some emails over the summer. Not sure if the university had the wrong address.” 

_Shit._ Porco tilts his head to look up at his roommate. He had totally deleted those emails. 

“Sorry. Forgot my password.”  


Reiner shakes his head. “It’s okay, they were just introductions. Doesn’t matter now.” 

The two hold eye contact, even as the conversation fizzles. Something about those brown eyes unnerve him even more than his mother’s did. Feels as though he’s being strip-searched. _For such a big guy he seems pretty lame. Probably fresh out of some snotty prep school._

Reiner stares at him for a moment longer, then swings out of bed and paces towards the door. Porco quickly swaps over to YouTube, away from Reiner’s still-private Instagram profile that he’d somehow come upon. He can hear the slide of a leather belt coming out as his roommate changes behind him, hopefully into something that makes him look like less of a virgin. 

“I’m going to check in on my friend moving into Whitney next door. I’ll be back in a bit.” _Who asked?_ Something about the boy’s deep voice ticks him off. 

Porco hears the door shut gently as he leans over, grabbing his headphones from his backpack. They slip on over his ears, but suddenly there’s nothing he wants to listen to, even in a playlist with over 200 songs. His thoughts are deafening, louder than even his favorite heavy metal. 

He doesn’t want to be here. He was fine with this – all of this – when it was for Marcel. He was fine with moving him in, with listening to him explain his schedule for the 4th time since they’d left the house, just because he was so excited about his classes. He was excited for Marcel too, for what this meant to him. It never meant shit to Porco. He’d resigned himself to community college in the city, still making good money delivering pizzas. In November he’d be 18 and could become a bartender. Marcel was always the smart one. It was his dream to go to college, to get a great job and be up and out and away from the life he and Porco had grown up in. 

Marcel was supposed to be a junior this year, worrying about advanced coursework and internships. 

But he’s gone. 

And Porco is here instead. What a sorry excuse for a replacement. He tries to swallow down the lump in his throat. 

His phone lands on the desk, headphones following a moment later. _All this bullshit._

Looking at Reiner’s side of the room is the only distraction he can manage. The boy is meticulous, he finds, or his mother is. Probably both. There’s already a calendar hanging up, labeled folders leaning onto a desk fan directly beneath it. Classes don’t start for three days, and Porco doesn’t even have a calendar, much less a folder. He clicks his tongue at the sight of the Green Day tapestry hanging along the wall, eyes from rolling as he notices the Superman comic covers pinned up closer to the window. 

Reiner has got some seriously shit taste. Superman? The most boring hero in existence? Don’t get him started on Green Day either. 

_This guy cannot be real._

_  
_

_And damn is it hot in here._

* * *

Reiner heads back up the Maria stairwell, having found that he’s more of a bother than anything in Bert’s room as the Hoovers swarmed around to finish moving in. He tried to help, but after 20 minutes of getting stepped on and moved out of the way, he decided to call it quits. Him and Bert would talk later. 

He can’t help the anxious itch in the back of his mind as he reaches the third floor, their room just a couple steps away. He’d moved up the staircase at a glacial pace, weighed down by the pit in his stomach. This might be a record for how quickly he’s made a fool of himself. _Was it a long drive? Really Braun?_ Not even a minute of conservation and he felt like a complete idiot. Another four years of him and Bert wouldn’t be that bad, right? _You just had to bring up the emails._

He opens the door to their room, stepping inside. His second foot is barely through the doorway as the overwhelming aroma of sweaty man mixed with Axe deodorant nearly knocks him out cold. He spies his roommate sat by the window, feet up on the windowsill, leaning back as _Reiner’s desk fan_ blows onto his exposed, sweaty torso. Reiner freezes in place. He tries not to stare but can’t avoid noticing those toned shoulders, or the way Galliard’s muscled arms twitch as his hands interlock behind his head, light brown hair draped over his fingers. Reiner stands there for what feels like an eternity, the combined scents making him dizzy, too enthralled to care about any sense of shame. _What am I doing? Why can’t I move?_ He could look at this forever. 

Then the door slams. 

The fucking door. 

He’s so fucked. 

Galliard startles into motion, feet kicking off the windowsill in a gut reaction that causes his chair to tip past the point of no return, falling backwards and towards the hard linoleum floor. 

The next thing Reiner knows is that he’s staring down at his roommate’s face, inches away. The weight of the chair – and its occupant– barely register in his arms. 

He’d failed to notice how cute Galliard’s nose is, round at the tip and slightly turned up. Hot breaths slip out of the boy’s parted mouth, kissing Reiner’s brow. His lower lip is split, down in the corner. A faint, lingering bruise just below it. Blue eyes stare up at him. What shade, he wonders. 

Then reality snaps back into place, and he drops the chair. Of course he does. Galliard falls the remaining inches to the floor, head bouncing off Reiner’s sneaker. 

Galliard rises to his feet, shrugging off Reiner’s attempted assistance as he rubs the back of his head. “The fuck was that, Braun?” 

“Are you okay? I was just coming back from my friend’s room and...” 

He tries to sound confident but can’t find the words for an explanation. What’s he supposed to say? “Sorry for checking you out? Sorry for dropping you?” It’s hard to think even without that defined chest in front of him, that solid torso with a dusting of copper hair trailing down towards his… 

_I’m going to throw myself out the window._

Galliard turns to the side, grabbing his shirt off the bed. “Yeah, whatever. Startled me is all.” His expression is sour. 

Reiner’s hand runs nervously through his hair, trying to give his best apologetic smile. 

“Just don’t fuckin freak out and drop me next time.” 

“Of course. And sorry, Galliard. Seriously.” _Someone kill me now._

“Hmph.” 

A knock on the door saves Reiner from any further scandal, and he opens it to find a pale, dark haired girl grinning up at him. “Hi, I’m Pieck, your RA. Floor meeting in the lobby in a few minutes.” She tilts her head to look past him, and the strangest expression flicks across her face, gone in less than a moment. “That’s all.” Her face disappears as she moves down the hall to the next room. Reiner lets the door shut, resting his forehead against it. He’s so doomed. 

* * *

The two boys shuffle into the back of the Maria lobby, Reiner following behind his roommate, but not too close. He can barely look at the boy after what transpired not 10 minutes ago. Galliard wastes no time in pulling his phone out, even as Pieck clears her throat and begins to speak. 

“Alright everyone, for those of you that missed it, I’m Pieck, I’m a computer science and engineering major, and I’m your third floor RA this year. We’re going to head across the street to mirror pond, where we’ll get your introductions out of the way. After that I’ll bring you guys to the South campus dining hall for dinner so that you can go a little longer without having Whitney’s food.” She winks, but Reiner gets the feeling she’s being serious. “I don’t want to see any phones until after dinner. Starting with you, Porco.” 

Galliard’s head shoots up, eyes narrowing as he meets Pieck’s solid gaze. Reiner hears him grumble something as his phone is roughly shoved into his pocket. Their RA nods, then turns and heads outside. 

* * *

They’re in the rear once again as the group comes to a stop, waiting for the crosswalk to signal them. They stand in silence, Galliard pointedly facing away from him. 

Pieck veers off the sidewalk after they’ve crossed the street, heading through the grass towards the body of water that the sidewalk skirts around. Mirror pond is an apt name, Reiner thinks, as the bright blue sky reflects off of it like real-life painting. The occasional fish coming to the surface is the only thing that breaks the illusion. The students spread out into a circle at Pieck’s direction, and Galliard veers off, trudging across the grass to squeeze in between two people. 

Awesome. 

Pieck claps her hands together after the residents have stopped shuffling, grabbing their attention. “Alright, why don’t we go around and have each of you say your name, your major, and one thing you’re excited about. I promise this won’t be too painful.” She paces just inside the circle, waiting for someone to be brave enough to go first. 

Nothing. 

Reiner listens to the cars passing by behind him, hoping that someone, anyone, will end this awkward silence. _No one? Really?_ He sighs. 

“Hello everyone,” deep voice echoing through the otherwise quiet circle. “Nice to meet all of you. I’m Reiner Braun, I’m a physiology and neurobiology major, and I’m very excited to study hard and make the most of our time at Reiss!” Reiner can hear his heart pounding in his ears. 

He tries to hold his smile as best as he can, even with 30 sets of eyes now trained directly onto him. A sudden snort almost causes his flimsy bravado to shatter, muffled snickering following. _What’s wrong? Is there something in my teeth?_ Before he can place where the noise is coming from, another voice snaps into action: “Something funny?” The snickering stops. 

Reiner tries to conceal his surprise as he realizes that it’s _Galliard_ who has spoken up, noticing the way the boy’s brows are furrowed even from across the circle, jaw clenched. He’s staring down someone to Reiner’s left, though without stepping forward he can’t see who. 

Pieck decides to intervene before things can escalate further. “Thank you, Reiner,” she says with a smile, turning to face Galliard now. “Porco, why don’t you go next?” 

His roommate scoffs, those blue eyes cast towards the ground. “Yeah. Galliard. Pleasure.” 

A girl to Reiner’s right goes after a brief pause, when it’s clear that that’s all they’re getting. Reiner returns his focus to Pieck. She’s still facing away from him, long hair concealing her expression. 

* * *

Porco’s anger bubbles as the residents continue to introduce themselves. _Had to say something, didn’t you?_ He digs his shoe into the grass, savoring the feeling of the blades being torn underfoot. _Not your fault that Braun sounded like an idiot._

He briefly looks up as the douche from earlier sounds off. “Floch Forster. Comm major. I’m excited to have some fun.” He draws out the last syllable for emphasis. Porco feels his blood simmer as a smirk creeps across Floch’s face, the guy next to him batting him on the arm in encouragement. 

_Jackass._ That hairstyle alone made him want to knock the guy out. 

His attention returns to kicking at the ground as the scene from earlier creeps back into his mind, everything happening so quickly that he’d had no time to process it. He can hear the introductions, but they hardly register as he remembers Reiner’s face hanging above his own. That faint smell of minty toothpaste. 

“I’m Historia, and I’m a PoliSci major! I’m excited to meet all of you.” 

The thin layer of stubble around his mouth, framed by that defined jawline. 

“Annie, computer science. Excited for the soccer season.” 

Those brown eyes, filled with such shock and concern. 

“Alright, everyone, lets head to South campus for dinner. Remember, no phones. I want to see you guys talking.” 

The way he held him there like it was nothing. Like he weighed nothing. 

_Whatever._

* * *

Reiner looks around for Galliard, having finished making a salad. He’s somehow already lost track of him. _More like I’ve been ditched._ The ramp to the lower level comes into view. Knowing his roommate, he’s probably hiding down there. 

His foot catches on something as he passes a table already populated with students, sending him lurching forward. The salad is mostly intact, save for the pieces of lettuce scattered across the floor. What just happened? 

“Watch where you’re going dude.” Snickers. The same from before. 

Floch. 

Reiner looks down to see a foot sticking out from under the table. He could’ve sworn it wasn’t there as he approached. 

“Sorry.” 

He continues towards the ramp. _No use giving them a reaction._

It feels like a 20-pound weight has dropped into his stomach. Any semblance of hunger is gone now, replaced by a frustration that crowds out all other thought. He feels a sharp pain as his fork digs into his hand, caught in Reiner’s crushing grip. It hurts. He squeezes tighter. _My roommate most likely hates me and the other guys on the floor think I’m a loser. So much for a fresh start. Nothing has fucking changed._ His armpits grow clammy, a cold sweat taking hold. Anger gives way to fear. _Can I do anything right?_

Then Galliard is there, as suspected, eating at a small table in the lower corner of the dining hall. If he notices Reiner approaching, he doesn’t show it. His eyes remain glued to his phone, dragging a piece of chicken through mashed potatoes as Reiner sits down across from him. 

They sit in silence. _Should I say something? Screw it._

“Thank you, Galliard. For earlier.” 

Blue eyes meet his own, briefly. 

“Yeah. Try to not sound stupid next time.” 

Reiner pauses, not knowing how to react. Was that a joke? He did sound stupid after all. 

The sudden grating sound of something scraping across the floor draws their attention. Reiner turns to see a small blonde girl, Historia he thinks, pushing a table towards them, while another blonde girl, Annie, simply watches with a blank expression. Historia lets out a huff as the tables bump into each other, pulling up a chair and plopping down in it. Annie follows suit. 

“Hi! I’m Historia, but you probably knew that. Annie and I figured you two must be having an interesting conversation down here and thought we’d join you.” He turns to Annie, whose expression reveals nothing. It’s a bold-faced lie. He may be dense, but he knows pity when he sees it. 

He smiles at the two girls nonetheless, trying to make a better first impression than he did with Galliard. “I appreciate you joining us. It’s always nice to meet new people. I’m Reiner.” 

Historia nods at him, eyes cheery, then turns to the other boy, who’s busy with his food. “You’re Galliard, right? I couldn’t hear what your major was earlier.” _Couldn’t hear is one way to put it._

Galliard seems to not notice at first, but realizes that he’s been spoken to as the conversation lulls. He swallows down the chicken in his mouth, looking at Historia now. 

“Oh. Natural Resources. Wildlife Conservation.” 

Historia’s eyes widen. “Wow! That’s a cool major! Why’d you pick it?” 

Reiner watches as he toys with his mashed potatoes for a moment, mulling the question over. 

“Figured it’d be easy.” 

Historia opens her mouth to respond, then begins to laugh. There’s a tiny smirk on Annie’s face. Galliard clicks his tongue, returning to his phone. 

The two boys eat in relative silence, Historia chatting with Annie about how they should coordinate to decorate their room. It’s a largely one-sided conversation, Annie nodding on occasion. Reiner can’t help but feel a giddy warmth ebb through him, eating his sad looking salad with a renewed vigor. Maybe things aren’t hopeless after all. His lips parse into a small grin. 

The sound of utensils hitting a plate pulls him from his thoughts, and he looks up to see Galliard shuffle by, plate and cup in hand. Reiner cocks his head and watches as the boy heads up the ramp, not so much as a word or backwards glance of goodbye. 

He turns back to the girls, instinctively scratching the back of his head. “Sorry about him. We got off on the wrong foot I think.” 

Historia smiles. “No worries, I’m sure everyone is a little anxious today.” 

Reiner nods, then turns to Annie. “You said you play soccer, right?” 

Annie lets the pasta on her fork fall to her plate. “Yeah. I’m a new recruit to the women’s team. I moved into Maria a couple weeks ago.” 

As he goes to answer, someone brushes past his arm, a plate dropping down in front of the now-empty seat at the table. The girl that sits down is unfamiliar. Tall, tan, freckled. Not from their floor. 

“This seat taken? Didn’t seem like that other guy was coming back. I’m Ymir.” 

* * *

Reiner cracks the door to his room open slowly, trying to avoid a scene like earlier. Galliard is at his desk, headphones in and on his laptop. Reiner recognizes the website as a streaming interface, some game with guns. Not his thing. He grabs his book and climbs into bed, not sure what else to do with himself. Bert hasn’t responded to his texts. 

Galliard gets up and leaves not long after. 

* * *

The vending machine looms in front of her, a perennial dilemma of hers. _I really, really want that bag of chips. But the pretzels are just much better value for a dollar… Fruit snacks could be good too._

The sound of footsteps on the stairs draws Pieck’s attention from the problem in front of her. She watches as someone descends into the basement, not sparing her a glance as they push open the door to the lounge. _He looks just like him._

“Porco.” 

The boy stops, turning and letting the door hit his back. 

“Did you have a good first day?” 

He looks to the ceiling, and sighs, “Sure.” 

Silence. _Just tell him, Pieck._

“Look, I don’t know how to say this. I was… a friend. Of Marcel’s.” 

Nothing. He’s still not looking at her. 

“I couldn’t make it to the funeral. I’m really sorry. I know you… meant a lot to him.” 

His grip on the phone in his hand grows tighter. A single finger taps against his thigh. 

“I’m not going to force anything out of you. I’m just here to help, if you need anything.” 

She turns and heads towards the stairs, not hungry anymore. The chips are probably stale anyways. Hand on the railing now, she gives the boy one last look, forcing out a weak smile. “I’m really glad you decided to come to Reiss, Porco.” 

Her footsteps are soft up the stairs. She feels numb. 

* * *

The lounge is empty. Thank god. He sits down, tossing his phone onto the table, a bit harder than he intended. He tilts the phone up, noticing that the screen has cracked in the corner. 

He wants to punch the table. 

He wants to scream and yell and throw a fit. 

His breaths become shallow; his chest tightens. There’s a lump in his throat. 

He wants to cry. 

He wants his brother. 

Just a sad wave from his mom as they drove off. Dad couldn’t even spare a glance. 

They took so many pictures the day Marcel moved in. His parents couldn’t stop beaming with pride. 

He remembers holding onto his brother extra tight, not wanting to let him go, knowing that they wouldn’t be sharing a room anymore. Knowing that Marcel wouldn’t be there in the morning when they had to get up for school, and he’d let Porco sleep an extra 10 minutes. Or on the nights when he was frustrated for no good reason, angry at the world, his parents, himself. Marcel was always there, a warm hand on his shoulder. A kind, knowing smile. No explanation needed. 

Marcel isn’t there now. 

He’ll never be there again. 

No sense in crying about it. 

His vision has gone blurry. His hand wipes away budding tears. 

No sense at all. 

* * *

Reiner is on his laptop when Porco returns to the room. He watches the boy’s mouth open as he steps inside, and pauses, waiting for some nonsense question to hit him. It never does. Porco slips his socks off and climbs into bed, collapsing on top of the comforter. 

His body sinks into the mattress, limbs fatigued. His pillow has never felt softer. He’s been tense all day. An elastic band pulled taut. 

Reiner climbs out of bed. The lights flick off. 


	2. Day 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> On to chapter 2! I'll admit I had no idea how AO3 did formatting and assumed I could just copy everything over from a Word document. It was only slightly tedious going back through to add the appropriate HTML stuff.
> 
> CW for this chapter: Description of child abuse, panic attack

He’s awake before Galliard, which doesn’t surprise him, watching morning dew streak down the window. The sun rises from behind Maria, causing the dorm to cast a long shadow onto the grass by mirror pond. Bertolt is meeting him there to throw a frisbee while it’s still cool out. Hopefully Bert’s first day went better than his. 

The floor is chilly on his feet as he gets out of bed, tiptoeing to the dresser so as to not wake his roommate. The honors shirt he got yesterday is the first one he spots as the drawer slides open. It looks a little small, but it’ll stretch, he figures. He turns, casting a cautionary glance towards Galliard to make sure he’s still asleep, then slips his shirt off, trying to change as quickly as possible. It’s humiliating, having to be watchful in his own room. There are some things he’d rather not explain; the scars on his back being one of them. 

The buzzing of a phone draws his attention. He half-hops back to his bed, pulling a pair of athletic shorts on. It’s Bert. Reiner turns to grab his toothbrush, and pauses as Galliard rolls over, exposing his resting face. He’s much less intimidating like this, Reiner thinks. Expression soft, hair disheveled. It’s nice. 

The moment is ruined as the boy picks his nose, still sleeping. _Gross._

* * *

Porco groans as he turns in place, trying to escape the sounds of whatever’s moving around the room. Had the cat gotten in again? He cracks an eye open. He’s not at home. He’s at Reiss. The “cat” is his goddamn behemoth of a roommate. 

A sweeping hand grabs his phone out from under the pillow. 8:30am on a Saturday? Downright sinful. 

Porco watches a tentative smile break out across Reiner’s face, noticing that he’s awake. “Morning, Galliard.” That deep voice. _Does he always have to be loud?_

The blonde comes closer, and Porco can’t help but notice that he’s wearing that awful, bright green t-shirt they got yesterday. _Guess they ran outta extra-larges._ Reiner’s pecs are practically bulging out of the shirt, the HONORS logo stretched to comical proportions. Porco’s surprised he even got the thing on. 

“I’m going to toss a frisbee with my friend by mirror pond. Would you like to join us? It’s nice and cool out right now.” 

Another groan rumbles out of Porco as he sits up, stretching. “I’m good. Thanks.” 

Reiner is insistent. “Are you sure? I don’t mind waiting for you to get ready. It’ll be fun! Nothing like exercise in the morning.” 

“Yeah. Pass.” Porco flops back down onto the bed, facing towards the wall. _Take the hint, Braun._ He can make out the sound of the door closing as he falls back to sleep. 

* * *

It’s 10:30 when Reiner returns. Porco glances his way as he steps into the room, taking note of the darker shade of green that his shirt has become, drenched in sweat. There’s a hole in the seam too, down by Reiner’s waist. The shirt must’ve given out under all the running and stretching he did. Porco definitely didn’t watch for a while out the window. He tries to turn back to his phone, hoping that he’ll be left alone. 

No such luck. Reiner is in a good mood. Too good of a mood. 

“You ought to be out of bed, Galliard. Classes may not start for two days, but that’s all the more reason to build a good routine now. I heard the honors courses are quite intense!” 

Porco grits his teeth. Who does this guy think he is? 

“Yeah, well, if I want your opinion I’ll ask for it.” 

Reiner opens his mouth to say something, but Porco cuts him off. 

“And I’m not in honors, ‘kay? No ‘intense classes’ here.” 

His roommate’s face turns to one of confusion, which shouldn’t please Porco, but it does. Maybe that’ll shut him up. 

“…Of course. Sorry for assuming. I’m… going to shower, then.” 

“Yeah, whatever. Don’t let me stop you.” 

The boy leaves, clothes, towel, and shower caddy in hand. 

_Good riddance._

* * *

Shampoo foams in his hair, excess suds falling towards the shower floor. He wishes he could just melt away and wash down the drain. Anything’d be better than embarrassing himself with yet another failed attempt to win over Galliard, led astray by good intentions. _You always were a people person, huh Braun._ He can’t help but punch the shower wall, feeling the plastic flex under his frustration. All he wants is to be _friends_ , to just connect with the boy. Is that so much to ask? 

And why is he in Maria, an honors dorm, if he’s not in the honors program? Did the Reiss housing department decide to make an exception just to torture him? 

_Penance for the sins of a past life, most likely._

His mind wanders away from his roommate, finally, as he rinses off. He ought to plan out his schedule for the week, later. Human anatomy, physiology, honors physics… It isn’t going to be an easy semester. 

_“This is an opportunity of a lifetime, Reiner.”_

His mother’s words. They play on repeat in his head. 

He _knows_ a chance like this doesn’t just fall into the lap of every student struggling financially. It’s not exactly commonplace for your tuition to be waived because you were #2 in your graduating class. He’d be stuck at home at community college otherwise. It’s precisely that fact that fills him with such fear. What if he’s not as smart as he thought? What if he isn’t prepared? 

He can picture his mother’s reaction. Lips drawn into a line. That sad look in her eyes. 

Failure isn’t an option. 

A groan of exasperation is muffled by the towel pressing into his face. 

It’ll all work out. He has physics with Bertolt, after all. And sure, his major won’t be easy, but it’ll open up a lot of exciting career paths down the road. 

Pushing the bathroom door open, he nearly collides with someone coming in from the hall. Floch. The brunette eyes the towel in Reiner’s hand. “Showering in our clothes, are we?” 

He’s a deer in headlights. Mind blank, mouth ajar. He ought to say something. The words catch in his throat. Floch smirks, pushing past him. “…Pussy.” 

Another failure. Another defeat. 

* * *

Reiner stares down at the dry scrambled eggs on his plate, regretting his meal decision. Pieck wasn’t kidding about Whitney’s food. 

“How’s the roommate? You barely mentioned him this morning.” 

He looks up at Bertolt across the table, who clearly doesn’t share his sentiment on the food quality. The three pancakes he grabbed are already gone. 

“Good.” 

Bert cocks an eyebrow. Reiner knows he isn’t fooled. 

“Something happen?” 

“I dunno,” Reiner grumbles, poking the scrambled eggs with his fork. “I keep messing things up.” 

“I’m sure you haven’t. And roommates don’t have to be best friends. Mine’s been in the room for all of five minutes. I think he already has a girlfriend.” 

Reiner grins. “So much for living apart to meet new people.” 

His friend smiles at that, sliding his empty plate under Reiner’s. “Yeah.” 

“I guess… I just want to be able to talk to the person I’ll be living with for the rest of the year. It feels like I can’t get two words out without sounding like an idiot.” 

“Well, you’re not an idiot, so that’s out of the question. I’m sure both of you are just nervous about college. We haven’t even been here a full day after all.” 

“…I guess.” 

Bertolt pauses, trying to get a read on his friend’s expression. “Do you think he knows that you’re-” 

“No.” Reiner cuts him off before he can finish. “And I doubt he’d be like that if he did.” Galliard was certainly bristly, but he didn’t come across as a homophobe. Not like Floch. Though with the way his luck has gone… 

Bertolt sighs, standing up as he grabs their plates. “Well, I guess you could just ask him. What’s the worst that could happen?” 

Reiner doesn’t answer. 

* * *

The room is empty when he gets back, much to his disappointment. He’d gotten himself all worked up to try and speak with Galliard, to hash things out, and now he isn’t even here. His lucky streak continues. _May as well get started on my calendar._ His laptop pops open, the Reiss online login already set as his home page. Time to download some syllabi; anything to keep his mind busy. 

* * *

He’s still working on his calendar when Galliard returns, writing down assignment due dates for the semester. He pauses as he hears the boy’s sneakers slip off, followed by the bed frame creaking as it takes on sudden weight. _No time like the present, I suppose._ He pushes off his desk, sliding his chair around to face his roommate. To his surprise, Galliard’s already looking at him. 

“If this is about earlier, sorry. I’m still tired from yesterday.” 

He wasn’t expecting an apology, as he was about to apologize himself. His jaw hangs slack, mind blanking. This wasn’t part of his plan. What was he going to say again? 

Galliard clicks his tongue. “Well?” 

Reiner sputters, trying to gather his thoughts. “No, uh, don’t worry about earlier. I was just, um,” _C’mon you idiot, get it out! You rehearsed this!_ “I just, I wanted to um, apologize… for the past 24 hours.” Those blue eyes are burning a hole in him; he has to look away. “I’ve been a real idiot and uh…” He’s hot, sweating now. _God, I’m useless._ “And I really hope we can start over and have a great freshman year.” 

Reiner tenses, bracing for impact. 

He’s met with silence. 

Nothing out of the other boy. 

Even ridicule would be better than this. 

He musters the courage to look back towards his roommate and finds that Galliard is staring at him almost… inquisitively, that typical guarded countenace gone. When he notices Reiner staring back it’s his turn to fluster, head snapping towards the window. 

“You haven’t done anything wrong,” he mutters. 

Reiner is left lightheaded, the whiplash of the past 30 seconds proving too much to handle. He’s been holding his breath since he finished talking, but screw breathing. He still has a chance. Even with the chair thing, and this morning: Galliard doesn’t hate him. 

“Oh, uh, great.” he finally manages to respond. Galliard is tapping his knee now, still looking out the window. “The opening weekend fair is later, and my friend and I are meeting Annie and Historia, the girls from the dining hall last night. I’m sure they’d… enjoy it. If you went.” 

The other boy almost grins at that. “Yeah. Sure. Sounds fun.” He leans over and grabs the laptop off his desk, opening it up on his lap. 

“Awesome!” Reiner winces as he turns back to his calendar, immediately regretting that response. _Had to go and blow it at the end, Braun._

It doesn’t matter. He’s too happy to care. 

* * *

“Fucking wallhackers” blares through Porco’s headphones as the streamer on his laptop dies yet again. Other colorful language is sure to follow, though Porco isn’t paying any attention to it. His gaze has been fixed on his roommate’s broad back as the blonde is slumped over his desk, dutifully planning out his schedule. 

The boy he saw earlier had very little in common with the loud, confident, obnoxious one that was chastising him for staying in bed for too long. Sure, both were a little awkward, but Porco couldn’t help but feel like an ass for how Reiner was stumbling over his words, red in the face. He’d definitely been too harsh this morning. Reiner had good intentions. 

Marcel would’ve liked him; Porco’s expression softens at the thought. Marcel would’ve liked how he was a good influence, or tried to be. How he would help “set Porco down the right path” or some other bullshit that his brother spouted on occasion. 

But Marcel isn’t here, is he. 

And who’s to blame for that. 

Porco returns to his laptop. 

* * *

“Allllright,” Reiner lets out, finished tying his shoes. He almost jumps as he stands back up, clearly failing to contain his excitement. “Ready to go, Galliard?” 

Porco looks at him from his bed, just about eye level. The other Braun is back, it seems. “Yeah. Ready.” He drops down to the floor, hands instinctively going into his pockets. 

“Right, then.” Reiner swings the door open, gesturing for Porco to take the lead. 

“Thanks.” 

The sun is low in the sky as they step out of the dorm, turning and heading towards Whitney. The tall, dark-haired boy that Porco saw out the window this morning is standing at the edge of the road, kicking a rock around. He’s got on cargo shorts that could definitely stand to be a little longer, and an X-men shirt of all things. Glad to know the losers travel in packs. I’m doomed. The boy looks up as they approach, waving them over. Him and Reiner greet quickly, though his eyes stay fixed on Porco, as if sizing him up. Porco wouldn’t call himself short, but compared to this guy he feels tiny. Jeez. He didn’t look this tall from out the window. 

“Hi, I’m Bertolt. Reiner’s friend.” 

“Galliard.” Porco sticks his hand out, which Bertolt shakes. He catches his roommate’s eyebrows jolting up in surprise, a small twinge of satisfaction coursing through him at the sight. Reiner recovers quickly, though, and motions to the boys as he heads down the sidewalk. 

“Right. Let’s go. I’m sure the girls are already there.” 

They fall into a pace that’s a little faster than Porco can manage comfortably, owing to Bertolt’s incredibly long legs. The three of them can’t exactly fit side-by-side on the sidewalk either, what with Reiner’s wide shoulders and Porco being no slouch himself. He notes the odd silhouettes in front of him as he follows behind the two boys in silence. Quite the pair indeed. 

* * *

A high-pitched voice calls out for Reiner as the three of them arrive to the fair. Porco can see bodies in the crowd part, moved by some unseen force, until a moment later a bright blonde head pops out. Historia. 

“I’m glad you guys could make it!” Annie, and another girl that Porco doesn’t recognize catch up after a moment. Historia turns to look up at Bertolt, head tilting back a comical amount. “I’m Historia, nice to meet you!” 

“I’m Bertolt, nice to meet all of you too,” he says, giving a small wave. 

The girl Porco doesn’t recognize whistles. “Damn you’re tall. And blondie over here’s huge too. What do they feed you guys back home? Other people?” 

Historia elbows the girl at the comment, shooting her a nasty look. She turns back to the three of them. “Bertolt, Galliard, this is Ymir. I swear she’s nicer than she seems.” Porco isn’t so sure. “And Bertolt, this is Annie, my roommate. She is as mean as she seems.” Annie remains silent. 

Porco winces as Reiner lets out a deep laugh at the comment, the volume a bit louder than necessary. _I’ll lose my hearing by October at this rate._

Historia doesn’t seem to mind though, head turning to face him now. “How are you, Galliard?” 

“I’m good. Thanks.” _Those puppy eyes are killing me._ His hand instinctively runs back through his hair, gaze shifting to scan through the crowd. 

Historia nods, finding the answer acceptable. “Let’s get moving then!” She grabs Reiner’s wrist, pulling him into the crowd. The rest of them follow as best they can down the packed thoroughfare. 

Porco can hear Historia speaking to Reiner up ahead, if just barely. “We already did the rock wall, but if you guys want to try, I don’t mind waiting. I’m too short to be any good at it. There’s a hammer game up ahead where you try to ring the bell that you could probably beat.” He turns his attention to Bertolt and Annie just in front of him, who up until now have been relatively silent. 

“What’s your major, Annie?” 

“Computer science.” 

“Really? I’m computer science and engineering! Maybe we’ll have some classes together.” 

“Yeah. That’d be cool.” Annie doesn’t exactly sound thrilled. Reiner’s laugh can be heard through the crowd, probably at some comment of Ymir’s. Porco rolls his eyes. 

They continue to walk. To his left, a boy has just dropped into a dunk tank, yelling in protest at the cold water. Some students have their faces painted to look like clowns or animals. Others walk by holding massive clouds of cotton candy, letting pieces of the pastel sugar dissolve in their mouths. Porco never liked cotton candy. Too sweet. No substance. 

His parents used to take him and Marcel to the fair outside the city in the fall. That one had actual rides, though Porco was never tall enough for the fun ones. He’d always pout and mope when Marcel went on one, leaving him to wait with whichever parent didn’t feel like going. Marcel would always go on one of the kiddie rides with him after, or they’d walk through the funhouse and giggle at how they looked in the mirrors. 

Marcel won him a goldfish, one year. He’d named it Max. Max only lasted three days, and Porco didn’t stop crying until his parents had gone out and bought a replacement, except the replacement was a cat. His brother’s doing, most likely. Max Jr. was an acceptable stand-in. 

Marcel should be here tonight, with his friends. 

He would be, if not for Porco. 

Porco has tried to forget that night, but it’s no use. Him and Dad were fighting again; he doesn’t even remember how it started. Dad probably found cigarettes in his car again, something stupid. 

But Dad was having a bad day. Back before Marcel went to college, when he still lived with them, he’d be there, the voice of reason. Trying to protect his brother. 

Normally he just sits there and takes it. The yelling, the threatening gestures, the drops of spit hitting his face from how close his dad got. 

But Porco had just gotten dumped by his girlfriend of over a year, left for someone better; he wasn’t in the mood for bullshit. All it took was one smart comment, muttered under his breath. It was an open palm, first, the flash of pain bright across his face. He was dragged to his feet, shirt collar gripped tightly by two clenched fists, knuckles white. 

He really wasn’t in the mood for bullshit. There was a shove, his dad stumbled backwards. Porco needed space. His heartbeat was deafening. The fists were back, but not for his shirt. 

His mom was screaming, but Porco couldn’t make out the words, arms braced in front of his face. His dad aimed for the gut, then. He doubled over, ears ringing, all that screaming. “Stand, if you want to be a man then. Stand and take your beating!” His body wouldn’t move. His mom was on the phone, crying into it. 

All he had to do was keep his mouth shut. 

_…God, what am I doing._ There are too many people, and the lights are too bright. He can’t go two steps without bumping into something or stepping on someone’s foot. The music is too loud. And it’s shit music, too. He hears Reiner’s deep voice again. The air is stale. Stuffy. His chest is tight. It’s hard to breathe. 

He knocks into something solid in front of him. Annie. Porco hadn’t realized they’d stopped. She’s glaring at him, but he barely notices. He swings his head around. The street has widened, there are a bunch of food stalls. Grilled cheese. Pretzels. Hot dogs. Fried dough. 

He’s gonna be sick. Everything is coming out of focus. 

Then Reiner’s there, walking up to him, a wide smile on his stupid face, so pleased with himself. Porco takes a small step back, bumping into another person. He’s trapped. A cornered animal. 

They’re all looking at him. Bertolt frowns. 

He feels Reiner clap him on the shoulder, ushering him back towards their group. His foot catches on the pavement beneath them, but he stays upright, hand latching onto his roommate’s arm to maintain balance. Reiner beams with happiness at the gesture, his smile almost as blinding as the lights pointed down at them. “Eh, Galliard?” he starts. That goddamn loud voice again. “Anything catch your eye? I’m starving!” 

He can’t do this. Gods, he cannot do this. 

The taste of bile floods into his mouth. He swallows, trying to suppress the feeling. 

“I’ve uh, seen enough.” It’s a herculean effort just to get the words out. “I’m heading back.” 

He keeps his eyes down. He can barely see straight. It’s too fucking bright. 

Then he’s turning, brushing Reiner’s arm off his shoulder, ducking between two buildings before any of them can protest. He hears a “Galliard!” from behind him, but he’s already turned the corner. Is this the way back to Maria? 

He doesn’t care. 

* * *

Reiner stands, feet frozen in place. What happened? He was just walking with Historia and Ymir, taking in the sights around them. Everything was fine. Galliard had initiated a handshake with Bert earlier, of all things. Was it the hand on the shoulder? He was just trying to be friendly. Galliard had even returned the gesture, the smaller boy’s hand on his arm. Then he’d just run off. 

He turns to Annie, frustrated. “Did you say something to him?” It comes out more accusatory than intended. 

“No,” she scoffs. “He just bumped into me. I didn’t say shit to him.” 

“It’s true,” Bertolt adds. “It looked like he was out of it or something.” 

Reiner pinches the bridge of his nose. This isn’t supposed to be happening. It was all going so well. “Sorry, Annie. I don’t know what the deal is.” 

“You shit on his pillow last night or something?” Reiner turns towards the voice. Ymir. Of course. “What? No one’s that pissy just for the fun of it.” 

Historia puts a hand on his arm, face sympathetic. “I’m sure Galliard has a valid reason,” she explains. “Why don’t we try that ring tossing game we passed a couple minutes ago? Loser buys food.” 

Reiner nods, following Historia as she sets off back down the street. He doesn’t have the heart to say he’s lost his appetite. 

* * *

The sun has just about set as Porco stops to sits on a bench. He leans forward, hands cupping his face. _Breathe._

The nausea gradually subsides. 

Now that he’s away from the festivities he can make out a faint chorus of high-pitched peeps that he hasn’t heard in ages. Tiny frogs called spring peepers, as Marcel had once explained to him, on a summer night visiting their grandparents’ lake house. Porco had figured they were just bugs. 

“Porco?” He looks up. Pieck. “I saw you leave the fair. RA duties and all. Is everything alright?” 

He gives a slight nod. “Yeah. Just heading back to the dorm.” 

“Mm.” She pauses a few feet from him. “May I sit?” 

“Sure.” 

So she sits. Not too close, though. Porco is grateful. 

“Reiss is a pretty campus,” she says, taking a look around the courtyard they’re sat in. “It’s easy to forget with how busy college keeps us. I used to stroll around at night as a break from homework.” She swats at something. A mosquito, he figures. “Sometimes Marcel would join me. We’d walk to the student union and get milkshakes, when it was warm out. Coffee otherwise.” 

Porco just listens, a lump still stuck in his throat. 

“I know I can’t understand what you’re going through. No one can. But it’s good to talk about it, when you’re ready. It took me a while… after my grandmother passed. There are plenty of resources on campus to help.” 

“I don’t need some therapist to fix me.” 

“I’m not saying you do. I’m a resource… your roommate’s one too. And your other friends you were with.” 

“They’re not my friends.” 

“They could be.” 

“Hmph.” 

There’s a hand over his own, then Pieck is standing. “I’ve gotta get back to the fair. My friend can’t cover for me for much longer. Enjoy your night, Porco.” 

He stands, once Pieck has turned the corner, and continues his walk back to Maria. 

The spring peepers keep him company. 

* * *

Reiner considers the half-eaten grilled cheese in his hands. He’s had enough. It’s too greasy anyways. 

“I told you Ymir, _loser buys _. You did nowhere near as bad as me!” Historia punches at Ymir in protest, the taller girl deftly dodging to the side.__

____

____

“I know, I know, but your face was going to wrinkle with how much you were pouting. I couldn’t stand by and let that happen!” 

“You’re the worst!” 

Reiner can’t help but grin. 

“You gonna finish that?” He turns, expecting Bertolt, but finds Annie instead. 

“No, all yours.” 

“Thanks.” She snatches the sandwich from him, finishing it off in record time. Bertolt laughs to his right. Annie whirls to face him, cheeks full of grilled cheese. 

His friend flusters at the sudden attention, unsure what to make of Annie in her current state. _She might eat faster than Bert does. Those soccer practices must be intense._

Reiner wipes his hands on a napkin, then turns to pick up the Reiss University water bottle he’d won from the game they played. _I’ll give this to Galliard._ It was a crappy gift, and he knew it, but he already had a water bottle anyways. He turns to Bertolt. “Bert, you should come hang out in Maria tomorrow. Last day before classes start and all.” 

The boy nods. “Yeah, sure. I haven’t seen your room yet.” 

“Is Mr. Bad Mood gonna be okay with that?” Ymir. Again. Unable to let her opinion go unheard. Reiner glares at the girl, her satisfied smirk unwavering. 

Historia steps forward, disregarding Ymir’s comment. “How about we all hang out tomorrow? Annie has the day off from practice, and she brought this cool projector to play movies on!” The rest of them nod. “Reiner, why don’t you add Bertolt and Galliard to our groupchat?” 

Reiner scratches his arm, trying to mask his embarrassment. “I, uh, don’t have Galliard’s number.” 

Historia shakes her head, not missing a beat. “That’s okay, just ask him for it when you’re back in the room.” 

_Easier said than done._

* * *

Reiner waves to Annie and Historia as they head down the hall, opening his door. The lights are off, but he can see the brightness of a phone in the corner of the room. He steps inside, putting the water bottle down on his desk as he kneels to untie his shoes. 

“Everything uh, alright, Galliard? I- We… missed you tonight. It was fun.” No answer. 

He stands, shifting closer to his roommate’s bed. Headphones. Of course. 

Reiner nods, though he isn’t sure to who, and turns to grab his toothbrush. 

Galliard is asleep when he returns. 

  



	3. Day 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright! Here's chapter 3. I hope this hasn't been too terrible so far LOL. I sat on these three chapters for days making tiny change after tiny change to different wordings and phrasings. 
> 
> CW for this chapter: Moderate nudity, sexual content and angst... and some sarcasm and fluff :)
> 
> Enjoy! I'll be back with chapter 4 hopefully sooner rather than later.

Reiner stretches, migrating his arm to a spot where the sheets are colder; much better. He’s been lying in bed, stuck in a half-asleep daze. His toes are poking out from under the comforter, just barely hanging off the edge of the bed. He turns onto his side, pulling his legs towards his chest and into the warmth. His stomach growls: he must’ve forgotten to set an alarm last night. 

The door shuts, loudly, startling him awake. He sits up now, wiping away the lingering grogginess from his eyes. As his vision clears, Galliard comes into focus. A very naked Galliard, at that. Reiner watches as hands run through sandy-brown hair, slicking it back for the day to come. His eyes wander south, taking in the side-frame on display to him. His skin is still wet, shiny, beads of water hanging off his sculpted torso. A towel is slung loosely around his waist, both a tease and a threat. It falls on the boy’s backside in all the right places, providing emphasis that his typical gym shorts do not. Reiner swallows. 

Not noticing his presence, or not caring, Galliard turns away from Reiner now, facing the front wall. The towel drops as he bends down to slip his boxers on. 

Reiner can’t help the strangled gasp that slips out of him. He immediately averts his gaze, though the image has already been burned into his brain. “A warning next time, Galliard?” He hears his roommate turn to face him, the smack of wet feet on linoleum. 

“Never seen a naked dude before? Don’t look next time.” Reiner finds no sympathy in his voice. He looks back to Galliard, slowly, who is more clothed now, if boxer briefs count. Those pecs. Those abs. That… Lord help him. 

“No, uh, just woke up. Sorry.” His ears are warm. He isn’t sure where to look. 

Galliard sighs. “…Right.” 

Reiner’s phone buzzing breaks the moment. He grabs it off the windowsill. It’s Historia: “breakfast @ whit at 11???” It’s already 10:30? He never sleeps this late. Reiner texts back a thumbs-up. She sends another message: “make sure to invite Galliard!” Reiner wants to groan. 

He slides out of bed, pulling his own boxer briefs down slightly as they became bunched up overnight. He spots the water bottle on his desk. Should he still give it to Galliard? _Screw it._ He clears his throat. “Sorry if you uh, didn’t enjoy the fair. I know it’s not everyone’s thing.” 

Silence. Galliard still has his back to him, fully clothed now as he puts his laptop into his backpack. Reiner continues. “I won this water bottle last night, but I uh, already have one… if you wanted it.” 

His roommate turns at that, eyeing the purple and white plastic bottle, then Reiner. Those blue eyes make him nervous. 

“Thanks.” Galliard gives him a curt grin as he takes the gift, slipping it into his backpack’s side pocket. Before Reiner can say anything else, the boy shoulders his backpack and leaves. 

So much for breakfast, then. 

* * *

Reiner’d hoped a shower would clear his head, but finds his thoughts still stuck on his roommate. Try as he might, he could not make any sense of him. 

He didn’t seem very happy. Reiner was relatively certain of that. His family hadn’t helped him move in. He had no decorations up on his side of the room. All he’d brought were two duffel bags of clothes, a faulty fridge and a microwave. He wasn’t in the honors program, but he was in the honors dorm. 

He couldn’t stand Reiner half the time, but then he’d gone and snapped at Floch during introductions. And called Reiner stupid at dinner right after. 

The fair had gone well, until it hadn’t. 

He’d find Pieck later, he decided. If only to get some advice. 

Reiner continues to scrub himself, feeling a crawling, itching heat spread through his limbs. He tries to will it away, but to no avail. A quick glance south confirms it: he’s hard. _It has been a while, I suppose. And I’m alone._ Reiner lets one hand slip down, grabbing himself loosely as he leans against the shower wall. _Let it be quick, at least._

His thoughts are a one-way street, with a single destination in mind. _Not this. Anything but this._

As he inhales, he swears he can pick up the faint scent of Axe deodorant, mixed with sweat into a dangerous cocktail. 

Their faces, so, so close together. One move and they’d be touching. The way his skin glowed, stray water droplets running down an ass shaped to perfection, round and pert and buoyant. The way those boxer briefs left absolutely _nothing_ to the imagination, just a thin layer of fabric between him and everything going on down below. He grips himself tighter, pumping faster. 

This is wrong. God, it’s so wrong. He shouldn’t be doing this. They live together. They’re barely on speaking terms. This is a door that should stay closed. 

It’s too late for shame. The scene of the towel dropping plays on repeat. He’s bending down. 

Faster. 

Gods, he’s bending down. Galliard’s in his arms, weightless, suspended in time. Reiner’s legs begin to wobble. The smell of that deodorant. The way that skin would feel under his tongue. Soft kisses trailing down his torso. 

Faster. 

His hands running through that slicked back hair, grabbing it, pulling it out of place. The way their faces would slot together, soft lips on his own. That slim, muscular frame on top of him, weighing him down. Keeping him anchored. 

Faster. 

He’s almost there. 

His vision is growing spotty. His eyes squeeze shut. 

The bathroom door swings open. 

Reiner lets out a choked gasp, hand clamping over his mouth as his eyes snap back open. He turns the shower temperature down, way down, as he hears one of the stalls latch shut. Frigid water pours onto him. 

The moment is over. 

* * *

Hash browns hit his plate as he moves down the line, opting to skip the scrambled eggs this time. A bagel is a much safer choice. To his right, he watches as Bertolt indiscriminately drowns his plate in syrup. “Bertolt!” 

His friend turns towards him, continuing to pour the syrup. “What? It makes the food so much better.” The comment draws a nasty look from one of the dining hall workers on the other side of counter. Bertolt puts the syrup back. 

“He’s right. The food tastes like cardboard.” Annie appears next to Bertolt, having skipped past Reiner to get at the syrup herself. 

“Don’t encourage him,” Reiner scoffs. Annie grins. He can’t help but grin too. It does taste like cardboard. 

Historia and Ymir have already sat down, Ymir trying to steal pieces of fruit from Historia. “If you wanted some you should’ve gotten some for yourself!” It’s a weak defense. Ymir steals another strawberry. Historia sighs, exasperated. She pushes the bowl of fruit towards the freckled girl, turning to face Reiner as he sits down. “Did Galliard not want to come?” 

Reiner sits in silence, not wanting to admit the truth. “He uh, had other plans.” 

Ymir bites into a piece of pineapple, wiping away the juice as it dribbles down her chin. “So what if the dude wants to have no friends? I say we leave him in peace.” Historia smacks her at the comment, causing her to briefly choke on the fruit in her mouth. “What? I’m just speaking my mind.” 

“He looked really out of it last night,” Bertolt says, sitting down. Annie nods in agreement as the dark-haired boy continues: “Something’s definitely up.” 

“Probably drugs,” snorts Ymir, tossing a grape into her mouth. 

Reiner puts his bagel down. Galliard wasn’t on drugs. Was he? “Look… he was out the door this morning before I could mention breakfast. Sorry.” 

Historia puts her hand over his. “I’m sure he’ll join us in the future. There’s still the movie tonight. And anyways, no one _wants_ to have no friends.” 

He nods, returning to his food. 

* * *

Reiner sits down at his desk, unsure what to do with himself. Bert hadn’t planned his schedule yet, so he was back in Whitney, and Reiner didn’t feel like hanging out with the three girls alone. _Maybe Pieck is in her room._

A short trip down the hall and he’s at her door, reluctant to knock now that it’s right in front of him. He feels weird, going behind Galliard’s back. 

_Didn’t stop you from jacking off to him this morning._

He knocks on the door. 

It opens after a few moments, revealing Pieck’s face inside. “Reiner? Something I can help you with?” 

_Here goes nothing._ “Sorry to bother you, Pieck. I was wondering if I could speak to you… about Galliard.” 

Her eyes scan his face, then she steps back, opening the door to let him inside. He steps through the doorway, noting how dark the room is, shades drawn shut. There’s a pink lava lamp on her desk. _Aren’t those banned?_

Pieck gestures him to her couch as she sits on a beanbag. “What seems to be the problem? Did something happen between you and Porco?” 

_Where to begin?_ “No, nothing happened. It just… seems like Galliard isn’t happy here, and I can’t figure out why. I thought it was something I’d done, but he told me it wasn’t. I don’t know what to do.” 

Pieck sighs, folding her arms across her lap. “You’re a good guy, Reiner. Porco’s had a tough time recently. It’s not my place to share specifics.” The answer should fill Reiner with relief, knowing for certain that he hasn’t done anything wrong. He finds himself concerned instead. 

Pieck leans forward, continuing. “I appreciate your concern about Porco, and I’m sure he does too, though he may not show it. You’re a good roommate.” She smiles. “With that said, know that it isn’t your job to handle this. I know you want to help, but classes start tomorrow. It can be difficult enough to manage coursework without outside drama taking up your time.” 

Reiner is surprised at that, and finds himself answering before he can think. “I know that classes start tomorrow, and academics are very important to me, I assure you… but I’ve not had it very easy either, which is why I want to try and help. This isn’t just drama to me.” His ears are warm now, Pieck’s gaze picking him apart. 

She nods, after a moment. “I know. Just don’t beat yourself up about it too much, okay?” 

“Of course. And thank you for talking with me, Pieck.” He stands to leave. 

“You’re welcome. And come back if you need anything.” 

* * *

Porco’s sat at a table in the student union, three pieces of pizza on his plate. Turns out the food at Reiss isn’t so bad… if you pay for it. No real shocker there. He’d hoped there’d be some variety in toppings but nope, just cheese. Oh well. 

The purple and white eyesore on the table won’t get out of his field of vision, no matter where he looks. He shouldn’t have taken it from Braun earlier. And when he did, he should’ve thrown it out somewhere. The top doesn’t even screw on right. Not to mention he already _has_ a water bottle, still in one of the duffel bags under his bed. 

But whatever. He’ll humor Braun- for now. Call it some sort of apology for the fair last night. Porco was an ass, sure, but he had a conscience. Though that still didn’t stop him from fucking with his uptight roommate when given the chance. The noise he made this morning when Porco bent over- hah! _You’d think he was raised by nuns._

* * *

_What am I going to do about Porco?_ Pieck sighs, pushing her computer off her lap. She watches for a couple more seconds, then folds the laptop shut. No TV show or movie can hold her attention. Even the erotic ones. 

There’s so much she wants to say to the boy, but doesn’t, for fear of how he’ll react. He’s a loose cannon, so unlike Marcel, who admittedly had his moments, but Porco is of a different degree. And he has every right to be. To have the person you were closest with in the world torn from you… Pieck can almost relate. She remembers lying in bed, motionless. Days bled into nights bled into days. She wanted the world to leave her behind when Marcel passed, and still tries to hide it. And to know she could’ve done something, could’ve pleaded with him, gotten angry, something, anything. 

She smiled at him, that night, when he left. She wanted to be supportive. 

The things she wants to say to Porco. For his benefit, or her own, she isn’t sure. 

* * *

Reiner’s thankful for the cloud cover as he passes by the rec center, all finished walking to each of his classes. Reiss is a big campus, with a lot of buildings. He doesn’t want to get lost and be late during the first week. Inside the rec center he spies dozens of weight machines, as well as tons of open space where other students are lifting. On the upper level he can just make out some treadmills and ellipticals. His tour guide last spring said there was a pool inside too. Once he gets into the rhythm of classes he can worry about working out. 

Further up the building, the doors swing open, and a familiar figure exits onto the sidewalk. 

* * *

Porco’s arms are sore, and he’s grateful for it. Nothing like lifting to blow off some steam. Heavy rock is blaring in his headphones, the key component to an exercise playlist to get him in the mood. The app on his phone said the bus back towards Maria would arrive in a minute, and lo and behold the orange line pulls up just as he steps out of the rec center. He half-jogs to get on it in time, not wanting to walk the 15 minutes back to the dorm. The bus is nice and cool as he steps on, heading towards the back. He sits down, pulling out his phone, and notices as someone else gets on the bus. He can make out a familiar tufted head of blonde hair just over the seat. _Don’t tell me it’s-_ The person turns and heads towards the back of the bus. 

_Son of a bitch._

His roommate. Why was he here? 

The boy sits down across from Porco, panting profusely. He must’ve run to catch the bus before it left. Porco slides his headphones down, hearing a faint “hey” from Braun as he weakly waves, still catching his breath. 

“You following me or something?” Porco grumbles. 

“Yes- I mean, no. I was just walking back to Maria when I saw you. I wanted to find where all my classes were before tomorrow.” 

Porco rolls his eyes. A likely story. “Sure.” 

They sit in silence as the bus pulls onto the road, engine a low hum. 

Reiner speaks first. “I didn’t realize you worked out.” 

Something about the comment tickles Porco. _This guy is hopeless._ “Must not be doing a good job of it then.” He can’t help but smirk. 

That gets the blonde to fluster. “No, I mean, you look good- I mean, I didn’t think- I- god.” He tilts his head back, fingers pinching the bridge of his nose. His adam’s apple bobs. _He ought to shave that lousy goatee. Looks stupid._ There’s stubble of a similar color just poking out of his shirt, too. 

Porco laughs. “Relax, dude. I’m joking.” 

Reiner lets go of his nose, looking back at him now. His face is uncertain, as though he’s weighing his words. “I like to lift too, though I haven’t built a routine here yet.” 

“No shit, Braun,” Porco snorts. “You’re huge.” 

Reiner doesn’t have an answer to that. 

“…Thanks for the water bottle, by the way. Came in handy.” 

There’s that sunny smile. “Yeah! Of course. I’m glad you like it.” 

“I don’t.” Porco can’t let him get too comfortable. “It’s a piece of shit. Beats having no water though.” Reiner freezes. 

“Another joke. I’m grateful.” 

They sit in silence for the rest of the bus ride. He can feel himself grinning. Reiner is too. 

“It is a piece of shit though.” 

* * *

They’re back in the dorm now, Reiner feeling more comfortable in the space after the bus ride. He has the Minecraft title screen open on his laptop, humming along to the theme as it plays through his headphones. Historia is texting him again. 

“ask Galliard if he wants to watch the movie :) tell him Annie brought her projector” 

Reiner turns to face the boy’s back, noticing that he has a basketball highlight reel pulled up. 

He texts back, “I don’t think he’ll want to, sorry.” He’s reluctant to spoil the moment they had earlier. 

“just ask him! that’s an order.” 

Bertolt sends a laughing face. 

_They’re impossible._

“Uh, Galliard?” The boy slips his headphones down. “Historia wants to know if you want to watch a movie in her room. Annie brought a projector.” 

He turns his head slightly, considering the question. “Sure. But only for a little.” 

“Great. Bert should be here soon.” 

A knock on the door a couple minutes later signals the tall boy’s arrival. Reiner swings the door open, letting him enter. 

“Nice setup you’ve got.” Bertolt keeps his back to Galliard, only looking at his friend’s half of the room. “My room is already a mess. Roommate’s barely there and he’s somehow the messiest person on the planet.” Reiner chuckles. 

“Ready to go?” Bertolt motions to the door. Reiner nods, pulling it back open. He turns back towards his roommate: 

“Ready, Galliard?” Bert looks shocked at the comment, briefly locking eyes with Reiner as if he can’t believe what he’s hearing. 

Galliard stands, pushing his chair in. “Sure.” 

They head down the hall. 

* * *

Historia’s room is exactly as Porco would expect. Stringed lights hang just below the ceiling, giving off a warm glow. It smells like flowers. Annie’s seated on a desk chair at the far side of the room, a second empty one next to her. Porco moves towards it, wanting the privacy, but is beaten there by Bertolt, who gives Annie a nervous smile as he sits down. 

There’s nowhere else to sit in the room, except Historia’s bed. Annie’s projector is housed underneath it, playing the “Finding Nemo” title screen onto the opposing wall, just below a lofted bed. _Of course it’s a Disney movie._ Pixar. Whatever. 

“Galliard! I’m glad you came.” He turns to see Historia up on her bed, down by the window. Ymir is next to her, no doubt thinking up some sarcastic quip. He stands there in the doorway, not sure what to do with himself. 

“Yeah. Only gonna stay for a little though.” Historia’s smile disappears at the comment. “Gotta figure out what classes I have tomorrow.” A lie. 

“That’s okay,” she replies. The bed sags as Reiner climbs up into the near corner. He pats the spot to his left, motioning for Porco to join him. It’s either there, or the floor. 

_You’ve gotta be kidding me._ The “spot” is maybe 3 feet wide, if he’s being generous. He’d have a little more space if Ymir didn’t have her legs spread out, but the likelihood of that happening is even less than Porco actually figuring out where his classes are. 

He’s already here, though, and they’re all looking at him. He climbs onto the bed. 

The movie is more boring than he remembers. He’d only seen it once, when his grandmother took him and Marcel to see it in theaters. It doesn’t help that Historia’s comforter is the softest thing he’s ever touched. He should’ve taken the corner spot. Nowhere to rest his head. Wasn’t he going to leave? _A couple more minutes won’t hurt._

He doesn’t notice himself dozing off. 

* * *

“I’ll be damned.” 

Reiner tries to not seem too pleased with himself at Ymir’s comment, Galliard fully asleep on his shoulder. The smaller boy is slumped over onto him, apparently unable to stay awake for the movie. Historia had figured Galliard would like it, since his major was Wildlife Conservation. It was a stupid idea, in hindsight. 

His arm is falling asleep, trapped under the solid weight of Galliard’s body leaning against him. He dares not move it, even as he feels a damp spot form, his roommate drooling into his grey Liberio High t-shirt now. Reiner can’t help but grin. 

He tries to return his focus back to the movie, but it’s a losing battle. He imagines how it would feel with his arm around Galliard, light brown hair resting against his chest. He’d look down and see that soft face, finally at peace. The drool could stay too. It’d be worth it. 

Another lifetime, maybe. He’d settle for this. 

Out of the corner of his eye he notices Bertolt stealing glances at Annie every once in a while, though the blonde girl doesn’t notice, completely caught up in the movie. _You sly dog, Bertolt._ It’d be good for him to find someone. Maybe Reiner will try to nudge Annie in his direction. 

Bert would kill him if he did. 

* * *

Porco awakens to find Nemo reunited with his father. Historia is crying, Ymir trying to console her without laughing. 

His cheek is pressed up against a comfortable, solid mass. He breathes in, inhaling the scent of pine deodorant… something earthy. He smacks his lips together, swallowing, and realizes there’s drool dripping down his chin. Whatever he’s pressed up against gives a deep rumble, a faint chuckle reaching his ears. Porco’s too tired to react. Lifting took a lot out of him, that’s all. 

He sits up, not too quickly, and wipes his mouth. With a turn he’s facing his roommate, gentle brown eyes connecting with his own. They’re like warm, melted chocolate, that warmth spreading throughout Reiner’s face too. Perfectly content. 

“Sorry for… drooling on you.” Reiner stays silent, giving him a slow nod. Porco rolls his shoulders, then gets off the bed. “Thanks for the movie, Historia,” he says, though she’s too busy crying to notice. 

He heads back to his room. 

* * *

Porco is taking a picture of his laptop when Reiner returns, saving his class schedule for tomorrow. The room is awkward, but not like before. Porco is awkward. He _feels_ awkward. It’s a nasty feeling, like his face is too wide, tongue too big for his mouth. He wants to punch something and he doesn’t know why. He doesn’t know what to do. So he sits there, on his phone, Reiner moving around behind him, humming to some stupid tune. 

The boy stays silent otherwise, thankfully. Porco feels naked, vulnerable; small. He’s angry. At Reiner? No. Maybe. 

His face is flushed, probably overheated on Historia’s bed. Doesn’t help that his roommate is hotter than a fuckin furnace. Porco grabs his toothbrush to leave, feeling his skin crawl as Reiner watches him go. Can’t a guy get some privacy? 

Cold water pours out of the bathroom sink and into cupped hands, splashing up towards his face. Better, a little. He’s fussing with his hair in the mirror. Has it looked this stupid all day? Must be the lighting. Reiner is at the sink next to him now, still humming along as he brushes. Porco can feel the heat coming back. He must be coming down with something. A hand to the forehead confirms it: he’s burning up. He walks into one of the stalls, just to sit for a minute. Anything for a moment of reprieve. 

The lights are off when he returns to the room, stripping down to his underwear before climbing into bed. It’s a cool night, thankfully, and they have the window cracked open. The dull tone of the traffic light is almost relaxing, like a gentle reassurance. He can hear the spring peepers. 

“Night, Galliard.” The words hang in the room. Porco swears he can see them, even in the darkness, taunting him with what was, what used to be. An aching reminder of the love he had once received. Every night he’d hear them, long after his parents had stopped tucking him into bed. Even after Marcel decided to stay on campus during the summers to take extra classes there’d always be a text, a call, a voicemail, asking how his day was. When they were young he was “Pocco,” back when he’d climb into Marcel’s bed, seeking defense from the monsters in the closet. Then “Pock.” On nights when they’d fought, when they wouldn’t speak otherwise, just “Porco.” 

He hates himself for those nights. For taking the “love you” that occasionally followed for granted. For not always saying it back. There’s a hole in his chest, two months old and still not healing, not even close. Two months since he’s been wished “good night.” 

He supposes Reiner’s words can fit in that hole, maybe. Not that he wants them. 

Not that he deserves them. 

Porco turns over, facing the wall. 

Sleep takes him quickly. 


	4. Loose Footing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 4 is here! I hope all y'all enjoy it :)
> 
> CW: Very slight sexual content, and an unhealthy amount of sass

Reiner is awake before his alarm goes off, brimming with anticipation of the day to come. You’d think he was a little kid getting ready to leave on vacation, but for him this was just as good. The first day of classes was finally here! He throws the comforter off, swinging his legs out of bed and landing on the floor. Two confident strides towards the dresser and he freezes, the sound of a snore interrupting the moment.

_Right. Galliard._ He tiptoes the rest of the way to the dresser, casting a glance towards his roommate as the top drawer slides open. The boy is fully passed out, arm hanging off the edge of the bed and a bare, exposed leg poking out from underneath the comforter. A grin pulls at Reiner’s face, thoughts of last night flooding back: Galliard letting out those same rattling snores, cheek pressed against his shoulder. It was nice; really nice. 

He stands there, staring, watching Galliard’s back rise and fall with each breath. Strands of brown hair partially obscure his face, a low, rumbling moan filling the room as the boy stretches in his sleep. Reiner’s heart skips a beat at the noise. He’s been holding his breath this whole time. Now fully back in the present, he returns to the task at hand: getting ready for class. The forecast for today was cool and cloudy, so he could wear his navy polo without sweating to death. Cargo shorts would work too. 

Galliard is still asleep when Reiner returns from the shower, 7:30am on the clock. _Should I wake him up? I have no idea what his schedule looks like._ Better not, he decides. _He’ll have to figure things out one way or another._ He hoists his backpack on and is out the door. 

* * *

Porco doesn’t remember waking up, just drifting back in and out of consciousness. All he can feel is himself throbbing in his underwear, hips lazily grinding into the bed, seeking purchase against the stiff mattress. God, he’s so hard it hurts. He turns onto his side, feeling his body protest as the contact is lost. 

The dreadful, awful ringing of his alarm rouses him fully, his hand shooting under the pillow to silence it. He pulls his phone out, checking the time; he should be good to take care of his… issue. 

8:47. When was his first class? He swipes his phone open, navigating to the picture of his schedule… shit. Calculus starts at 9:05. Didn’t he set the alarm for 8:15? Had he snoozed it that many times? _Seriously, Porco?_

He’s out of bed with a groan, awkwardly waddling towards his dresser. His aching hard-on stands defiantly despite the cold dorm room, poking out of the waistband of his boxer briefs. Reiner’s backpack is gone, at least. If his roommate walked in right now… He needs gym shorts, and baggy ones. A hand goes up to push back his unruly hair, trying to tame it as best as possible; there’s no time for gel. He can’t be late. It was going to happen eventually, but the first class? No way. 

He gives his outfit a cursory glance as he slides his laptop into his backpack: loose black shorts and an old grey t-shirt, the blue “Marley City” decal almost entirely worn off. Thank god there’s no mirror in the room, cause he definitely looks stupid. Whatever. It’s 8:51 now, no time to be fussy. 

* * *

9am is far too early to think about math, and calculus is no exception. He needs to get some expensive calculator now, one that the university bookstore conveniently has if you’re willing to drop at least $50 on it. Ridiculous. Not to mention his breakfast sucked, and he forgot to put on deodorant. It isn’t hot out, but it’s humid and sticky, and that’s enough to make his armpits clammy. He doesn’t dare tilt his head to check if he smells, for fear of the answer. _Fuckin awesome first day and I still have two classes left._ Anthropology is next, starting at 11:15. _I’ll sit in the back so no one can-_

“Galliard! Hey!” It’s Historia, hand waving in the air. Second row from the front. 

His luck continues. 

Porco gives a nod as a greeting, remaining silent as he sits down next to her. Those blue eyes sweep over him, missing nothing. “Rough morning?” 

_Not_ the question he was hoping for, or expecting, frankly. He pushes his hair back again, trying to rein his temper in. If it were anyone else, he wouldn’t hesitate in ripping them a new one with some sharp-toothed response. “Uh… something like that. 9am calculus.” 

Historia winces, letting out a “yikes” in solidarity. She’s leaning towards him now, voice quieter: “Don’t worry, Annie’s in even worse shape than you. She had soccer practice at 5:30 and had to go straight from there to class.” Porco almost chuckles at that, picturing some poor kid stuck next to her in an 8am lecture. The girl’s attempt to raise his spirits is short-lived, however, as another student enters the room. 

_Fucking Forster._ Things could officially not get any worse. He lets out a groan of contempt, Historia tracking his vision to the other boy. 

“…Anyways, did you like the movie last night?” Another leading question out of the blonde, definitely to distract him. 

“Yeah, I enjoyed it,” he replies, trying not to sound too sour. It’s a generic non-answer. And a lie. 

“Is that so?” Historia giggles, clearly finding his response humorous. “Because I remember seeing you passed out on Reiner’s shoulder for most of it. Must’ve been a pretty good nap.” Porco’s bent down to get his laptop and lets his head hang, not wanting to give her the satisfaction of seeing his cheeks flush. He can _feel_ the amusement in her voice; she’s enjoying this. _Historia and Ymir are more alike than I thought._

“At least I didn’t miss out on you crying over an animated fish,” he retorts, sitting back up now. Two can play at this game. She laughs, punching him in the arm. 

“Hey, Finding Nemo is a classic. You’re just not mature enough to enjoy it.” Porco can’t help but give a small grin at the playful jab. “And it’s ok, I’m sure Reiner is a great pillow. But no sleeping next time!” Her expression is stern, commanding now. “And _you’re_ picking the movie.” 

_Next time?_ His cheeks are still warm, but he doesn’t care. He’s _almost_ smiling now, and he isn’t sure why. 

“…Yeah, sure.” 

* * *

An old clock on the wall ticks away as Reiner sits in the empty classroom, absorbed in his thoughts. Physiology and geography were uneventful, which makes sense. It is “syllabus week” as he’s heard other students call it. Tomorrow will likely be the same deal, though he has class straight from 9:30 to 3, which is brutal. Physics lecture will be with Bert, at least. 

Speaking of his friend, he mentioned at lunch that Annie was in his intro engineering class, but he was of course too afraid to even sit next to her. “You and Annie have hung out multiple times, Bert. You’re friends. It’s not weird,” Reiner tried to explain, but was only met with protest: 

“We’ve never hung out _alone_! This is totally different! And she looked pretty pissed off.” 

“It’s a class, dude. Just sit next to her. She always looks a little pissed.” 

He rolls his eyes, thinking back on the conversation. He’d threatened to speak to Annie if Bertolt didn’t do something; that would hopefully spur his friend into action. Bert had always been overly hesitant to act on his feelings… not that Reiner had been any better with his own crushes, historically. But the circumstances were different! If he were straight, he wouldn’t be half as nervous as Bert… or so he tells himself. 

“Hey you.” Someone sits down next to him, other students starting to trickle into the room as well. 

“Historia! I didn’t realize you were in this seminar.” 

She nods, taking her laptop out. “Yeah, it’s great! And I had anthro with Galliard earlier.” He’s relieved at that, knowing his roommate managed to get himself out of bed. Historia continues: “How are things going with him? Last night seemed better.” 

It’s a loaded question, one that Reiner himself isn’t sure how to answer. “He’s… coming around, I think. Still not sure what the thing at the fair was about, but yesterday was… pretty good.” _Pretty good is an understatement._ No sense in telling Historia that, though. No sense in telling _anyone_ that. 

“I’m glad,” she replies, still smiling. “He’s a sweet guy.” 

Sweet? Galliard is many things, attractive being one of them, but sweet? _What happened during their class this morning?_ …Does Historia _like_ Galliard? _She has seemed pretty intent on making sure we include him._ It was fine if she did, more than fine. It’d make Galliard happy. 

She’s turned to her laptop now, expression hidden. Reiner opens his mouth to ask how anthropology went, but is interrupted as someone at the front of the classroom calls them to attention. 

“Good afternoon everyone, and welcome to honors seminar. I’m Marco, and I’ll be your TA for the semester. On Mondays we’ll focus on the seminar’s topic, “the pursuit of happiness,” and on Wednesdays I’ll talk you guys through some of the ins and outs of being a student at Reiss! Sound good?” 

* * *

“See you, Reiner.” He waves to Historia as she heads further down the hall, his first day of classes officially over. It’s almost bittersweet, how uneventful such a milestone was. _Maybe I was a bit too excited._ He shakes his head, sitting down at his desk. Of course he was too excited. 

He considered asking Historia how class with Galliard was on the walk back, but decided to let the situation develop, for now. The last thing he needed was to be caught meddling in Bertolt _and_ Galliard’s love lives. And Historia was nice to everyone – it could just be that. 

His roommate is in bed as he enters their room, hair looking uncharacteristically disheveled. Reiner figures it’d be best to leave him in peace, since he has an assignment to work on anyways, for seminar. They have to write a page about what makes them happy for next week. May as well just get it done with now. 

Lots of things make him happy, but most of them are stupid: playing video games with Bert, reading a good book, making cookies with his younger cousin. What if he has to share with the class? His eyes wander as he sits down at his desk, pointedly staying on his half of the room. He _certainly_ wasn’t going to write about anything involving his roommate. The comic books hanging by the window draw his attention. 

Superheroes were cool now, right? Even if Marvel was more popular, Superman was still better than his other options. He always looked up to the imaginary figure when he was younger, in lieu of a real-life role model. Superman could do anything, help anyone. He was indestructible, mostly. No one could push him around. And underneath that suit he was a regular guy, alien thing aside. He was smart, charismatic, kind… good looking. Reiner has tried to be like that, but he’d come to accept early on that it was a hopeless dream. One he still pursued all the same. 

* * *

His legs are sore. Of course the School of Agriculture – which includes his major – is the furthest possible walk from Maria. Of course. It borders Titan Hill on the edge of campus, which houses the university’s livestock units. You can _smell_ the manure. To sweeten the deal, all of the buildings are ancient and don’t have air conditioning, and his professor for Intro Wildlife Management seems like a total nutjob. He tries to will away the headache that’s been accosting him for the past hour, but it’s still there, a dull pain in the back of his mind. Is every day going to be like this? High school was boring, but at least it was easy to coast by. How he ever woke up that early is beyond him. Alternating 9am and 9:30am classes is going to suck as the semester drags on. He’ll have to put his phone on the desk or something, so that he can’t snooze it. He still needs that damn calculator too. 

“…God.” He sits up now, rubbing his eyes. Braun is at his desk, typing away. _Maybe he has a spare I can borrow._ “Hey.” Nothing. He’s got his headphones in. Porco absently notes how his roommate fills out the dark blue polo he has on, sleeves hugging his thick arms. The color complements his blonde hair to an annoying amount too. _I should’ve showered and changed while I had the room to myself._ He sighs, sliding out of bed. 

The blonde takes his earbuds out, feeling Porco kick his chair. “Huh?” 

“Calculator. Got a spare? I need one. For a class.” 

“You didn’t bring a calculator?” The boy sounds confused. 

“If I _had_ I wouldn’t be asking,” Porco scoffs. 

“R-right. What kind?” _What kind?_ Now he’s confused. 

“The fancy kind, I dunno. Lots of buttons.” 

“No, I mean does it have to be scientific or graphing.” _Scientific?_

“…It’s a math class. Calculus.” 

“You’ll want a graphing one then, with a big screen,” Reiner says, tone patient. “I only have a scientific one, and I need it for physics. Sorry.” 

“I need a different one for physics?” he groans, rubbing his temple. 

“You’re in physics?” 

“Unfortunately.” He can feel his headache in his eyes now, if that’s even possible. 

Reiner’s staring at him. _This is useless._ His roommate probably thinks he’s stupid _and_ a slob, not that his opinion matters. “Whatever. Go back to your typing,” he grumbles, heading back towards his bed. 

“Galliard, it’s fine. Pieck is a computer science major, so she might have a spare that you could borrow.” 

Porco clicks his tongue at that, still facing away from the blonde. Pieck will probably have some choice commentary about his appearance. But hey, today already sucked. Why not? 

“…Right. Pieck.” 

He leaves, turning down the hall. 

* * *

Pieck opens the door after the second knock, her dark hair just as unkempt as his own. “Can’t a girl nap in peace?” She looks irritated. “Oh, Porco,” she says, realizing that it’s him. “Something wrong?” 

“Something have to be wrong?” Porco retorts. “Just need a calculator to borrow. A graphing one… and a scientific one. If you have both.” 

She nods, disappearing into her room. Porco catches the door on his foot to keep it from shutting. He can hear her rummaging through things, the sound of paraphernalia being tossed aside. Pieck reappears after not too long, calculators in hand. “How was your first day of class?” This? Really? Right now? 

“Boring. Lots of walking.” 

“I see. They’ll get more interesting, the first week is always slow.” 

“Right.” They stand in silence. Pieck crosses her arms, holding the calculators close. 

“How are things with Reiner?” 

_What kinda question is that?_ “Didn’t realize this was an interrogation.” 

“Just curious,” she replies, shaking her head. “I am your RA, Porco. I need to know these things.” The tiny grin on her face is unmissable. 

“Fine. Things are fine.” Pieck’s dark eyes are trained on his, expression unwavering. He drops her gaze, turning to look down the hall. _This is like pulling teeth._ “We watched a movie in Historia’s room last night, okay? Satisfied?” 

Her eyes narrow slightly, but she relents, after a moment. “That’s good. Reiner is a nice guy.” Her hand extends, finally, the calculators with it. Porco grabs his prize and leaves back down the hall. 

“Remember that, Porco. And you’re welcome.” 

* * *

He hears the door open and turns, taking his earbuds out once again. “Success?” 

Galliard flashes the calculators, standing next to him now. 

“Nice. I’m glad Pieck could help.” 

Reiner expects him to head back to his bed, but the boy hasn’t moved, seemingly intrigued by what’s on his laptop. 

“‘What makes me happy?’ This your diary or something?” The tone isn’t mocking, to his surprise, but he’s embarrassed all the same. 

“No! No, it’s uh, for a class. My freshman seminar. The topic is on positive psychology and… stuff.” 

Galliard nods, as if interested, but that must be wrong. “Right. Whatcha writing?” Why does he care? This must be a setup to some prank. Historia and Ymir are probably in the hallway, ear to the door. 

“Uh, about… Superman,” he confesses, reluctantly. “I’ve been a big fan of his since I was little.” The comics have been up on the wall for days now, so Galliard must know. Even still, the best idea he had is a pretty lame one. 

“Nice.” His roommate leaves it at that, now turning to drop Pieck’s calculators into his backpack. 

Reiner sits there, stunned. That’s it? No smart comment? He turns, watching as the boy pulls his shirt off, grabbing his shower towel. Did Pieck say something? 

* * *

The rest of the afternoon comes and goes, the two boys left to their own devices. Reiner turned to Minecraft after his assignment was finished, talking to Bertolt through the computer as they played together. Porco didn’t care to listen to their increasingly annoying back-and-forth, reminded all-too-well of the hours upon hours that he and Marcel spent gaming with each other. 

He tried to play some Counterstrike, but found that the wi-fi was another of the things that the university had certainly spared expenses on. Even in the practice range the lag was too much, never mind trying to play against other people. He noticed an ethernet cable snaking up behind his roommate’s desk; he’d have to invest in one, lest he go the entire semester without playing. 

A deep growl from his stomach draws his attention from the video playing on his phone. It’s 5:45, and he’s starving. He figured he’d wait until Reiner went to dinner, since the boy would no doubt ask him to join, but it’s been 45 minutes since dinner started and he was still on his computer, though it seemed like they were done with Minecraft at least. 

Whatever. He could just go to dinner alone. The silence would be preferable to listening to that deep voice for any longer. He drops off the bed, sliding his sneakers on. One hand is on the doorhandle when he pauses. _Just leave, idiot._

“I’m… going to eat.” Reiner turns to face him, closing his laptop slightly. “…If you’re hungry.” The blonde boy sits there, motionless, as if trying to process some complex question. The low _beep_ of the traffic light out the window fills the space between them. Reiner’s face looks dumb like this, eyebrows slightly scrunched, head slightly tilted. His polo’s buttoned up all the way, like he’s some church boy. It’d look better unbuttoned, just a little. Hell, it might even look _good_. 

“I would, but I told Bert I was going to meet him at 6:20,” he finally answers. “He’s supposed to call his parents at 6 to check in with them.” See? Should’ve just left and been done with it. Would’ve spared the embarrassment. 

“Right.” The door is open now, and Porco’s into the hallway. 

“Galliard.” He stops. Reiner is in the doorway, head poking out of the room. “I’m pretty hungry though. I could eat two meals.” There’s a stupid smile on his face. 

“Yeah, sure. Hurry up though. The line is probably long.” There’s a stirring in his chest, some kind of weird, airy feeling. It almost… tickles. 

Must be the hunger. 

* * *

Porco’s trying to just enjoy his meal. Really. Truly. But Reiner, without fail, has alternated between taking a bite of his burger and eating a couple fries for the entire time that they’ve been sat down. He never bites his burger or grabs for the fries twice in a row. Dude can’t even eat without being lame. 

But why the fuck does Porco care? He doesn’t. Just like he doesn’t care about Superman of all things being what makes Reiner happy. It has no effect on him. 

He steals some fries off the boy’s plate. Maybe that’ll mess up his rhythm. 

What’s gotten into him? 

It’s been a long day, that’s all. A boring day. He just wanted the entertainment. 

“What classes do you have tomorrow?” 

The question finds Porco with two fries sticking out of his mouth. He meets those brown eyes, just for a second, before looking away. What classes _did_ he have tomorrow? He swallows the fries down, pulling his phone from his pocket. 

The phone drops on the table, 4-digit passcode unlocking it. Porco swipes until his photos appear. Physics in the morning, then seminar at 3; that was it. He spins his phone around, pushing it across the table. Reiner picks it up, those large hands dwarfing the phone in a way that Porco’s can’t. What if he looks through the phone? What if he finds something? What would he even find? 

“You have physics right before me, same lecture hall.” 

_So?_ “Cool.” 

“I have anatomy at the same time in the Life Science building, it’s right next door. We could get breakfast tomorrow and walk over together.” He hands the phone back, their fingers brushing as Porco accepts it. He’s warm, just like last night. 

“Yeah, sure.” That’d be… fine. He wouldn’t have to worry about snoozing his alarm at least. 

Three more fries have appeared on Porco’s plate when he faces forward again, Reiner still staring at him. The boy seems… relaxed. Comfortable. Broad shoulders dropped half an inch, even less. You’d blink and miss it. 

Porco takes the fries, slowly. Can’t seem too eager. It feels like admitting defeat, which is stupid, they’re just fries. 

“By the way, I’ve been meaning to ask for your phone number.” He almost chokes on the fry in his mouth. They lived together, wasn’t that enough punishment? What use was his phone number anyways? “Historia wants me to add you to our group chat. I’m surprised she didn’t ask when you had class with her this morning.” 

Porco feels like he’s short-circuiting, brain gone haywire. How did Reiner know they had class together? Was Historia keeping tabs on him? _She probably told all of them how gross I looked._ She wouldn’t. But maybe she would. 

He’s lost his footing. Those damn fries gave Braun the upper hand. 

“You and Historia gossiping about me?” It’s a dumb question, but he’s fishing for a reaction, not an answer. Marcel would do this. He was an expert. All it took was a muttered “you trying to lose?” during video games to get Porco riled up and off balance. 

It succeeds here too. “What? N-no, I just had seminar with her earlier,” Reiner replies, that relaxed look gone now. “I- We wouldn’t do that.” 

“Yeah, fine, whatever,” Porco replies. “Give me your phone, I’ll put my number in.” Sweaty palms betray his nonchalant response. 

He spots a faint, thin scar by the boy’s elbow as he hands his phone across the table. Probably from something stupid. Reiner’s phone is an old model, like 4 years old model, but it still looks basically new. There’s not a single scratch on the screen. Porco half-considers putting in the wrong number, but decides against it. He hands the phone back, standing now. 

“Just don’t send me any weird shit and don’t put me in that group chat. Too many notifications.” Reiner looks a bit confused but doesn’t question it, nodding. “Can’t risk Ymir getting my number either,” Porco adds, winking as he grabs his plate. Did he just wink? 

Reiner chuckles at that, smiling now from cheek to cheek, revealing tiny dimples. “I don’t blame you,” he replies. “And I’ll see you back at the room.” 

Porco’s stood there for five seconds before he realizes he’s supposed to be leaving. “…Yeah. See you.” 

A text pops up as he’s crossing the street back to Maria: “Testing. Is this Galliard?” 

* * *

He waves to Bertolt as the taller boy enters the dining hall, gesturing him over. Reiner stands as he gets closer. 

“Hey, sorry for the wait. My parents wouldn’t let me off the phone.” It was 6:23. Three minutes late was sinful by Bert’s standards. 

“No worries. I was already here, anyways. Galliard got hungry earlier.” 

“And you… joined him?” 

“Yeah, he asked, surprisingly.” 

“…I see.” His friend doesn’t seem entirely convinced. 

“Well, let’s eat then. I’m still hungry.” 

They sit back down a couple minutes later, both boys opting for the cheese pizza. Bert keeps looking his way, but hasn’t said anything. 

“How are your parents?” _That’ll get him talking._

And sure enough, it does. “Oh, you know,” he sighs. “They miss me. They wanted a minute-by-minute walkthrough of the past couple days. I’m dreading family weekend, even if it’s over a month away.” 

That sounds like the Hoovers alright. “Can you blame them? You’re their first kid off to college.” 

“I know, but it’s not like I’m even doing anything yet. It’s been all of four days since they moved me in. And you’re an only child, but your mom hasn’t been breathing down your neck.” 

Reiner chews his pizza. His mom only ever cared about what he did when she had to see it, and she was an expert at turning a blind eye when she wanted to. 

“Count your blessings, Bert. They care about you, that’s all.” It’s an uncomfortable implication, one he didn’t mean to make. 

“Yeah. Sorry.” 

They return to their meals. 

* * *

He packs two energy bars into his backpack, in preparation for tomorrow. _Hopefully physics lab doesn’t take too long._ Galliard has been listening to music on his phone ever since he got back from dinner, volume so loud that Reiner can hear it from across the room. He wants to talk with the boy, about anything, really. It’d just be nice to keep up their conversation, to have something to fill the space. 

Galliard winked, earlier, at dinner. It was so casual, completely unforced. The boy oozed charisma when he wanted to, those lips so easily pulling into a half-smirk. He made it seem effortless. Reiner would be lying if he said it wasn’t attractive. 

Oh well. There was always tomorrow. Hopefully, Galliard would join him on Thursday too, make a habit out of it. Tuesdays and Thursdays wouldn’t seem so bad if that was the case. 

He wishes Galliard a good night again, when the lights are off. There’s no response.  
  


* * *

There’s a warm hand nudging his shoulder; Marcel, most likely, rousing him for school. He can hear his voice too, but something’s different. It’s deeper. 

“Galliard. Galliard. It’s 8:15. Wake up.” 

He rolls over, brushing hair off his face. The hand retreats. “Wha?” 

Ah. Reiner. Not Marcel. Of course. Damp blonde hair sticks to his roommate’s forehead. He must’ve already showered. He’s got on another polo, a lighter blue this time. It’s buttoned all the way up again. Porco shifts to sit up, freezing as he feels his… _issue_ from yesterday morning drag against the comforter. 

Shit. 

“Come on. It’s raining, so we should get to breakfast early to make sure we catch the bus. I figured you’d want to shower.” 

He does want to shower but getting there is a different story. “Uh, yeah. Thanks.” 

This is a total fucking disaster. There was absolutely no way he was getting out of bed with a raging boner, his roommate right there. He’d sooner throw himself out the window. It doesn’t help that Reiner was still fucking staring at him, waiting for him to get a move on. His skin prickles under the attention, uncomfortably hot. 

“Anything else?” He’s trying to keep his cool, but the question still comes out sharp, biting. 

“W-what? Oh. Sorry. I’ll… leave you to it.” 

Porco takes a deep breath, dropping to the floor now that Reiner has faced away from him. His dick is pressed into the bedframe, and he tries to not make it too obvious as he shimmies down the room towards his towel. _This is so fucked._

He’s in the shower for a while. 

* * *

They miss the bus, watching the blue line head into campus just as they exit the Whitney dining hall. It’s 9am, pouring, and a 20-minute walk to their respective buildings. Reiner zips his backpack up, hearing Galliard grumble something to himself. He gestures the umbrella in his hand towards the shorter boy. “No worries, I came prepared.” The umbrella pops open, two girls glaring at him as they pass by, almost hit by it. His roommate snorts. “…Sorry.” _Way to stick the landing, Braun._ “Right. Let’s go.” 

His sneakers are thoroughly wet 5 minutes in. Galliard is probably in the same boat, as he’s been walking only half-under the umbrella. The boy’s rain jacket would offer some protection, if it weren’t unzipped with the hood down. They’ve come to a stop now, waiting for a break in the passing cars. 

“There’s room for both of us under here, you know.” Heavy raindrops splash against the pavement, spraying water onto his legs. Galliard’s nylon jacket rustles as he turns slightly, almost facing him. His hair gel is somehow holding up despite the rain. 

“What? It’s fine.” His eyebrows are slightly furrowed, as though Reiner’s speaking nonsense. 

“Hold the umbrella then,” Reiner says, moving his hand closer to his roommate. “You don’t want to sit through physics soaking wet.” Never mind that he had three classes in a row to Galliard’s one. 

“…Fine.” The brunette takes a half-step to the right but makes no motion to grab the umbrella. A car stops to let them pass. 

They continue on. Galliard’s hand brushed against his leg once, so now the boy is holding onto his backpack straps. It’s a tight fit under the umbrella, and with each stride their arms bump together, a constant reminder of the other’s presence. Reiner’s ears are warm. He can’t help but steal glances towards his roommate, not too frequently, just to make sure he’s staying dry. Galliard’s expression is sour. His eyebrows are still bunched together. 

The rain fills the silence. 

* * *

“There’s the physics building.” _Finally._

Porco’s been fuckin dying underneath this rain jacket, sweating like the day they moved in. Even with it unzipped he felt like he was in a sauna. And then Braun had to go and make things weird. 

At least he was able to figure out this morning’s predicament. He’d have to start using his alone time during the day, maybe download some stupid dating app. Anything to avoid another case of morning wood with his roommate barely two feet away. 

“Enjoy your class.” 

“Right.” 

He steps out into the rain. 

* * *

_Anatomy was really interesting, even for the first class. I definitely lucked out with this professor._ She was young, and clearly loved her job. He should introduce himself, next class, and see what other courses she taught. 

He’s heading up the stairs of the Physics building now, to his second class. Bert texted that he was going to wait outside the room so they could head in together. If Reiner remembered correctly, their lecture hall should be just off the stairwell… 

There’s a familiar figure at the water fountain as he turns onto the third floor. It’s his roommate, filling up his water bottle. “Hey, Galliard.” The boy turns, revealing a still-sour expression. _He did just have physics after all._ “How was class?” 

“Long. Confusing.” 

The expected answer. Reiner will probably feel the same in another hour. “You’re heading back to Maria now, right? You should take my umbrella, since it’s still raining.” He holds the closed umbrella up, raindrops still dripping off of it. 

Galliard slips his water bottle into his backpack. “I’ll just take the bus.” He begins to head towards the stairwell, but Reiner puts his hand with the umbrella out, blocking him. 

“Take it. Just in case. I have physics lab after lecture and the rain should be over by the time it finishes.” 

The boy clicks his tongue, but acquiesces, taking the umbrella. “Fine. …Thanks.” 

Reiner’s outstretched hand turns into a fist, which he gestures towards his roommate. “See you later,” he says, giving a small grin. 

Galliard bumps Reiner’s knuckle with his own, water from the umbrella wetting both their hands. “Yeah. See ya.” He heads down the stairwell. 

Bertolt is sitting on a bench further down the hall, but he stands as Reiner approaches. They enter the lecture hall together, the large room sloping downwards towards the professor, who is standing behind a desk, trying to get the overhead projector to turn on. 

“Is that Annie?” Bert asks. Sure enough, the girl is sat on the far side of the room, blonde hair up in a lazy bun. Reiner corrals his friend into the row of seats that she’s in, drumming the taller boy’s shoulders as they make their way across the room. He’s in a good mood; he can’t help it. 

“Hey Annie,” he says, giving a small wave. She responds with a brief glance and a “hey” then returns to her laptop. Bert flashes him a look reading “are you serious right now” but Reiner is already nodding his head, gesturing towards the seat next to her. Bertolt sighs, sitting down. The boy’s ears are bright red. 

* * *

Annie is also in his lab, it turns out, as they head up to the fourth floor of the physics building. His phone buzzes with a single text from Bert: “Don’t.” He replies with a “;)”, then a “I won’t say anything” right after. He doesn’t want to torture his friend _too_ much. 

They sit down at the same table, Reiner taking an energy bar out of his backpack. There’s 10 minutes until lab starts and he certainly isn’t allowed to eat during it. 

“I brought a second energy bar, if you want it. It’s chocolate and peanut butter.” 

“Really? Thanks.” The girl’s eyes widen slightly as she accepts the snack, wasting no time in tearing the wrapper off. 

“How is soccer going?” 

“Good,” she replies, the words muffled by the food in her mouth. 

“Bert and I used to play soccer when we were younger. Neither of us were any good at it, so we ended up switching to cross country in middle school. 

Annie seemingly doesn’t reply, until Reiner realizes that she’s quietly giggling to herself, the energy bar just about gone. 

“Is something… funny?” It occurs to him that he’s never really seen the girl _smile_ , much less laugh. 

“No, no. I’m just imagining you running. You aren’t exactly built for it.” 

He processes the response, then begins to chuckle too. He really wasn’t built for it, or any sport for that matter, when they were young. He was a pretty scrawny kid with not much endurance to speak of. Athletics don’t exactly bring back fond memories. 

“I more did it to be with Bert. He’s a good runner but didn’t want to try out by himself. It ended up being great exercise, even if I was slow.” 

Annie nods in agreement, wiping chocolate from her lips. 

* * *

“Thanks for the umbrella. Missed bus again.” He considers the would-be text, then deletes it, groaning as he drops his phone face-down onto the desk. Why was this so difficult? First he couldn’t bring himself to save Braun’s number in his phone, and now a short thank-you text was too much to bear. 

He’s a mess. 

“Who’s the lucky lady, getting to share her umbrella with _the_ Porco Galliard?” The voice is right in his ear, almost sending him out of his seat. 

Ymir. Who else? 

“Piss off, Ymir.” She doesn’t, opting to take the seat next to him instead. 

“That hurts, Porco. I’m just trying to help, you know. I happen to be a relationship _expert_.” He can’t tell if she’s just taking the piss or is actually serious. The permanent smirk on her face makes it hard to tell. It’s not a relationship, anyways. It’s him being a dumbass that sucks at saying thank you. All this because he didn’t just save Reiner’s number when he got it. He’s his own worst enemy, as always. 

He clicks his tongue, turning to face the front of the classroom. “Stay out of my business.” 

“Alright, alright. Just don’t come crying to me when you strike out.” 

He should keep his mouth shut; he knows he should. 

He doesn’t. “If you’re such an expert, why do you spend all your free time doing fuck-all in Maria?” 

She laughs, putting a hand on his shoulder. “Hah! Coaches don’t play, my friend. Besides, other ladies like myself are hard to come by.” 

The puzzle pieces are slow to come together. “You’re…” 

“What, never seen a lesbian before? Jeez, no wonder you’re not in the honors program.” 

“Last I checked you weren’t either, smartass,” he snaps back. 

“Relax, Porky, I’m joking.” 

“Don’t call me that.” 

“Sure,” she says, not missing a beat. “Anyways, my offer stands. As I said, I’m an expert with the ladies.” 

Porco blows a stray hair out of his face. “Right.” 

A deep voice breaks their conversation: “Alright everyone, class is starting. I’m Zeke, and I’ll be leading this freshman seminar. The subject for this course is “Why Read?” and we’ll be exploring several pieces of literature that touch on just that question.” Zeke is tall and well-built, a commanding presence. He’s got a full beard that most grown men would kill for. _There’s no way this guy is a college student._

“…Woof.” Ymir seems to agree. Porco can’t help the snort that comes out of him. 

“Something to share, Mr. Galliard?” Zeke’s staring right at him now, several students turning to look too. He’s sure his face is bright red. 

Ymir snickers next to him. 

* * *

It’s 5:15 when he finishes at the rec center. Ymir left him wanting to put his fist through a wall, and lifting was the next best thing. That girl should be a lawyer, if she isn’t already pursuing it. Five minutes and the opposing party would give up. 

There’s a text from Reiner on his phone: “Getting dinner with Bert and others at Whitney at 5:30 if you want to join.” He’d saved the boy’s number after the shitshow in seminar. 

Three minutes of waiting for the bus later and he decides on “Ok” as a response. 

They’re already eating when he gets to Whitney. Historia is laughing at something, her hand on Reiner’s arm. She’s definitely into him. They’d be good together, once they got past the awkwardness. Porco can just _imagine_ Reiner going for a fist bump in bed. He snorts to himself, grabbing an empty plate. 

The only open seats are next to Annie and Ymir, so he chooses Annie, obviously, though sitting across from Ymir might be even worse. He stays quiet as he sits down, not wanting to interrupt whatever Historia is talking about. 

Reiner does it for him. “How was seminar?” he asks, leaning forward to make eye contact. He’s smiling. 

“Hm? Fine.” _What’s got him so damn happy?_

“That’s good. Thanks for hanging my umbrella up to dry by the way.” 

Ymir snaps to attention at the mention of the umbrella, turning to look at Porco, then Reiner, then back to Porco. The smirk is nowhere to be seen for once. 

It returns, of course, after a moment. “Yeah, seminar was great,” she starts. “Our TA is a _total_ DILF.” 

Annie chokes on her food next to him. 

“Eh, Annie? Want me to hook you up? I can put a good word in.” 

The blonde stays silent, though Porco can see her glaring across the table. 

“Don’t say stupid things like that, Ymir.” It’s Bertolt now, chiming in for whatever reason. 

“Don’t judge, Hoover,” Ymir replies, her tone haughty. “Daddies are in right now. Blondie over here is halfway there; he’s just missing the beard.” She gestures down the table towards Reiner, who almost spits his drink out at the comment. Historia begins laughing again, that same hand on his arm again, as though bracing herself. It’s almost gross how obvious she makes it. 

Other tables have turned to look at them. Porco ducks his head down, trying to return to his food. 

Ymir is staring straight at him. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There can never be too much Ymir! Her conversation(s) with Porco were one of the things I was excited for when getting into this fic. It's a shame they never had any real interactions in the manga/anime (which can’t exactly be helped).
> 
> This upcoming week is a bit busy for me but I'm feeling pretty good about chapter 5 so hopefully there won't be any delays. I have papers due for a couple classes that I'm not looking forward to writing (as I casually crank out 6,000+ words for this without much issue).


	5. In the Light

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hello!! Just over a week later, and chapter 5 is here! I will admit, I'm pretty nervous about this one, mostly because I feel totally out of my depth as a writer LOL. I have reread this chapter so many times, made so many stupid little edits, etc. But I feel good about it now, and I hope you guys like it too.
> 
> Content Warnings: Underage drinking (if you're from somewhere where the age is 21), (mild) description of puking/vomit, past bodily harm/scars
> 
> Enjoy!

It’s almost incredible how quickly things can go downhill in just a week. Physics lab earlier sucked – physics in general sucked. He slept through calculus yesterday, not that it mattered; none of it made much sense to him. He was late to seminar again, but Zeke at least didn’t call him out on it. Anything to avoid- 

“Oi, dipshit.” A slender hand knocks against his arm. Ymir brushes a loose strand of hair behind her ear, giving him a sideways glance as she walks to his left. Just who he didn’t want to see. “Showing up late, sitting in the back of the classroom… if I didn’t know better, I’d say you were avoiding me.” 

“Yeah, well, maybe you should take the hint,” he replies, keeping his eyes forward. 

“Ooh, that’s cold. Do you pull this shit with Reiner too?” 

“Fuck off. It was a misunderstanding.” 

“Yeah? You avoiding me over _just_ a misunderstanding?” 

“Don’t you have someone else to fucking bother?” he snaps back, picking up his pace. 

She jogs a couple steps, keeping up with him. “Jeez, I’m trying to help you here. Nothing wrong with having the hots for your roommate.” 

He stops abruptly, turning to face her. Other students pass by on either side of them. Porco takes a breath, trying to rein himself in. “I was embarrassed to say thank you,” he says, voice low. “About the umbrella.” The truth feels sour on his tongue. It’s a blow to his pride, whatever amount of it that remains. _He_ was the one to let this drag on, not her. If he hadn’t fucking dodged the issue this all could’ve been avoided. “That’s it. Nothing else, no hidden meaning. Nothing going on.” Was that it? All this over a simple mix-up? A stupid seven-word text? 

“…Alright. Sorry for assuming.” Ymir looks serious, thin lips drawn into a line. 

“Yeah. Sorry for… I dunno.” 

The freckled girl feigns a gasp, continuing down the sidewalk. “An apology for me? You’ve gone soft.” Mirror pond is coming into view now, its surface bright with the afternoon sun. Students laze on the grass surrounding it, blankets spread out as they bask in the warmth of late summer. “You and blondie though…” 

Porco groans, shoving her lightly. “I don’t like dudes, Ymir, and neither does he.” 

“Neither do I!” she counters. “…Still, it’d be pretty hot.” 

“You’re gross.” 

“But I’m _right._ ” 

* * *

_Galliard will probably be back soon._ Reiner had put this off all afternoon, since his classes got done early on Thursdays, but he really ought to just get it over with. There was no harm in it, anyways. It’s just a phone call. Afterwards he could chill for the rest of the day and stop thinking about it. 

The phone rings… and rings. She’ll pick up. Any second now. 

Voicemail. 

“Hey, Mom, it’s Reiner. Just wanted to see how you’ve been. It’s crazy that it’s already been two weeks since I moved in! Things have been going pretty well, all of my classes are interesting. I hope you’re doing alright. …Well, let me know. Bye Mom, love you.” He ends the call, letting his phone fall onto the bed. 

It was fine, really. He wasn’t exactly homesick, and he didn’t need anything from her. But still… two weeks. It felt weird. 

She would call, when she got his message. It’d be nice to feel a little missed, for her to tell him how empty the house surely was without him home. 

Of course she would call. 

* * *

_How did I let myself get roped into this?_ They’re all in Historia and Annie’s room, just sitting around talking. Well, he isn’t talking. And he _does_ know how he got roped into this: Historia pestered him in their class this morning and wouldn’t take no for an answer. 

So now he’s here, in a desk chair, on his phone. It’s awesome, really. 

Bertolt is leaning against the windowsill, talking about some stupid engineering thing with Annie. “I wish I had brought my old Gameboy to campus, for our first project. It’d be easy to take apart and put back together. N-not that I still play it anymore, though.” 

“…We could use my DS, I have it here somewhere,” Annie replies, looking up at the taller boy from her seat. 

“You have a DS?” 

Typical nerd shit. 

Historia is on her bed with his roommate, a total shocker. _She definitely wants into his pants._ The second they walked into the room it was: “Reiner, Reiner! Oh, Reiner, come sit with me! It’s been _so_ boring without you and your muscles here.” Or something like that. 

Why was he here again? 

The door swings open, revealing Ymir: “Pizzas will be ready for pickup in 10 minutes. Who’s coming with me?” Supposedly the pizza in Trost Center was pretty good, but delivery was $10 extra. No one wanted to fork over that much money. 

“I will, let me go get my shoes.” It’s Reiner of course, always the first to volunteer, though Porco wasn’t exactly itching to make the walk himself. The boy hops off the bed, sliding past Ymir and into the hall. She turns and follows him after a moment, letting the door close. 

“Galliard,” Historia says, grabbing his attention. She’s patting the bed next to her, right where Reiner was sitting not 10 seconds ago. _Guess I’m the backup._ “We’re gonna play Mario Kart on the projector, if you’re interested.” Interested? Him and Marcel were borderline professional at that game when they were younger. 

These fools didn’t stand a chance. 

* * *

The sun is fully down, streetlights illuminating the sidewalk as they head into Trost Center and towards the pizza place. Cars pass on occasion, usually filled with students. _There must be a bar around here or something._ Ymir has kept to herself so far, which is surprising. It’s a nice night and Reiner doesn’t mind the silence, but he also doesn’t get the chance to speak with the girl very often, just the two of them. 

“How is… class with Galliard?” It’s a terrible icebreaker. 

Ymir agrees. “Really, blondie? Walking alone on a Friday night with a pretty girl like myself and _that’s_ what you ask?” 

“Sorry,” he chuckles. “And I didn’t think you were into guys like me.” It was a joke, or at least he’d intended it to be. Ymir is quiet though, her expression blank. _I shouldn’t have said that._

“Ah,” she starts, another car passing them. “You’re more observant than your blockhead of a roommate at least.” 

“Sorry if-” 

“I’m just busting your balls, Reiner. I know you aren’t interested in me either.” Now it’s his turn to be quiet, the words hanging in the air between them. 

What did that mean? Did Ymir… know? About him? He knew about her, or he thought he did… Had she said anything to anyone else? He’s thankful for the darkness, shadows hopefully hiding his face somewhat. His nervous laughter echoes through the empty streets, palms growing sweaty. 

Ymir doesn’t elaborate, just continues walking, leather sandals hitting rhythmically on the sidewalk. “Class with Porco is boring as sin. The whole seminar is readings books about why reading is important. I’d sooner watch paint dry.” 

Oh, thank goodness. He’d dodged a bullet, for now at least. “That doesn’t sound so bad. Mine and Historia’s is about the pursuit of happiness, of all things.” 

“Of course you’d think the class about reading wasn’t bad. Jeez, maybe Porco is the cool one after all.” The corner of her lip threatens to pull into that signature smirk. She really is pretty, Reiner notes, those almond-shaped eyes catching the streetlights, her freckled face framed by strands of brown hair. “But at least you have class with Historia.” 

* * *

They hear their friends well before the room is in sight. “A mushroom? Dead last and I get a mushroom?!” Bert is almost squealing, his voice uncharacteristically shrill. 

“Eat shit, asshole!” Historia? Ymir snorts to his right. 

They’re at the door now, cracking it open. “Fucking blue shell bullshit. This game sucks.” Galliard’s frowning face comes into view, arms crossed against his chest. He’s turned away from Historia, who’s almost doubled over on the bed, whole body shaking as she laughs. 

“Close race?” Reiner asks. Galliard clicks his tongue, tossing his remote onto the bed. 

Bert is the one to answer, standing to take the pizza boxes: “Not really. No one’s beaten Annie yet.” You could almost miss the tiny grin on Annie’s face, if you weren’t paying attention. She shrugs, staying seated. 

“I woulda beaten her this time if the game wasn’t fuckin rigged,” grumbles Galliard, clearly still pissed about whatever transpired. His frown has turned into more of a pout, crossed arms showing off his biceps. Reiner wants to laugh at how funny he looks but suppresses the urge; it’d be like gasoline on an open flame. 

“Don’t be a sore loser,” Historia says, reaching up to ruffle that slicked-back hair. Her blue eyes are glassy, as though she almost laughed herself to tears. Galliard bats her hand away, then flinches slightly as she tries to hug him from the side; it’s no surprise when he doesn’t reciprocate. An exaggerated _huff_ of air is all the girl gets as a response. 

* * *

He’d headed back to their room not long after the pizza ran out – better to leave than risk sitting through a movie or something. Mario Kart had been fun, sure, though second place wasn’t ideal, even if he almost always lost to Marcel too. If he was going to lose to someone though, Annie was definitely the best option; certainly better than losing to Historia, who didn’t even need to beat him to gloat, apparently. Ensuring his defeat was enough satisfaction for her. 

Reiner came back not long after he did, surprisingly. Ymir was probably cock-blocking him; that must be it. Not that he even _needed_ someone to cock-block him, what with the way he stumbled over words. Those awful polos that he wore on occasion, like on move-in day, had disappeared at least. They made him look like a total douche, even if he filled them out well. If Porco never had to see them again- whatever. What Reiner wore was none of his business. _It’ll be Historia’s business soon enough._

“Do you think you’re going to go to the party tomorrow?” Reiner’s already looking his way when Porco turns to face the other boy’s bed. 

“Huh? I dunno. Probably not.” He hadn’t thought about it, in truth. The Reiss women’s soccer team was throwing a party in celebration of… something, he assumed. Annie had given them the address of a house not far from campus. 

“I… think you should,” the blonde replies. “It’ll be fun.” Fun? _There’s no way Braun thinks binge-drinking to shitty music is fun._ Something was up. 

“Why do you care?” 

Reiner seems taken aback by the question. Something was _definitely_ up. “Well, uh, Historia asked me if you were going. I… think she wants you to be there.” 

“And? Historia wants everyone to be at everything.” This wasn’t news. 

“No, Galliard, I think… she likes you. Like, really likes you.” _What?_ He’s stunned. Gobsmacked, even. Historia likes _him_? There’s no way. It’s actually impossible. Not with the way she’s all over Reiner all the time. Porco knew girls, somewhat; knew how they acted when they wanted something. Historia didn’t act like that with him, not when Reiner was always right there, always her first choice. 

“She said you were sweet,” Reiner continues. “Last week.” _Complimenting someone like me as an act of charity, more like._

“Nah.” 

“What?” Reiner’s eyebrows bunch together slightly, his mouth hanging ajar. Not the reaction he was expecting out of Porco, apparently. 

“She likes you, dude.” 

His roommate’s expression still hasn’t changed, still that look of bewilderment. “No way,” he replies, as though not even considering the possibility. 

“Don’t play dumb. She’s always talking to you, hanging around you, hanging _on_ you, even when we’re in a group. It’s obvious.” Had he really not noticed any of her flirting? _He’s denser than I thought._

“Historia’s just… nice to me. That’s all.” Reiner’s cheeks have turned pink now. 

“No, she’s just nice to _me_. There’s a difference.” 

The other boy breaks eye contact, scratching his neck as he looks out the window. Were things finally adding up? _Took him long enough._

“Well, she’s uh, not my type.” What nonsense was this? 

“You have two eyes the last I checked. Of course she’s your type.” 

“I- what does that mean?” 

“Dude. She’s cute, she’s pretty, she’s nice, really fuckin nice. Who wouldn’t like her?” 

“I-I’m not-” Reiner’s basically sputtering now, flustered beyond coherence. 

“I get it, you’ve probably never had a girlfriend before.” It’s the only explanation he could think of. It’s the only explanation there _was_ , logically. Reiner was just nervous about a girl so far out of his league taking interest in him. This didn’t make any sense otherwise. 

Reiner sighs, letting his head hang, brown eyes shifted towards the bed. “I’m serious, Galliard. I’m not interested in Historia.” What? Now he’s getting pissed off. This dude bags Historia without even trying, and now is gonna act like he doesn’t want her? _Give me a fucking break._

“What, you too good or something?” Porco asks, his voice raising. _He must think I’m some fuckin charity case that can’t get her otherwise._

“Are you mad?” 

“No. Why would I be mad?” He’s definitely mad. His skin is hot. It’s hard to concentrate. 

“Look, I’m sorry for bringing it up, I just wanted to-” 

“Whatever. Your loss,” Porco says, cutting the other boy off. “You’re the one she’s into, not me.” 

Reiner’s pinching the bridge of his nose now, head still tilted forward. “Just… talk to her, at the party tomorrow.” 

This is pointless. And not worth his time. He grabs his headphones off the windowsill, slipping them on. 

* * *

The other bed is empty when he wakes up. _This is why you stay out of people’s love lives, Reiner._ Bert is lucky that he hasn’t said anything to Annie. There’s still hope that they’ll work out. Galliard and Historia on the other hand… 

Would it have been better if he told the truth? The thought had crossed his mind, but things had been going well between them. There was no telling how their dynamic would change if – when – Reiner came out. Him being gay hadn’t really mattered up until now, and even if he had come out, would it change anything? It still didn’t prove that Historia _didn’t_ like him, which seemed to be the main issue. Should he talk to her? 

No. Better to just… leave it. When Galliard gets back to the room he’ll apologize, and they can forget it ever came up. And truthfully, Reiner wants him at the party too, there was just no sense in telling him that. He figured that Galliard would rather be told that an attractive – and interested – girl wanted him at the party, not his awkward guy roommate. 

It’ll all work out. 

* * *

Normally when he’s this pissed off he’ll go and lift, but it would fuck up his routine if he did today. The track was relatively empty when he arrived, but now he has to constantly move to avoid walkers and other joggers. He’s here to exhaust himself, plain and simple. Run until he can’t think. It’s been an hour now, and he’s getting there. 

Just when he’d resolved things with Ymir he’s gotta start avoiding Historia. It’d be even worse this time, with three class meetings a week. And she’d give him those puppy eyes and he’d feel bad. It’s her own doing, though. Her and fuckin Braun. Even if she _did_ actually like him, it’d never work out. His last girlfriend was like her, sort of. Liked to talk, liked to check in, liked to communicate. She was pretty, and she liked Porco, so it was kind of a no-brainer. But her life wasn’t like his. She didn’t have shit going on, not at home. Sometimes he just wanted to fuck off for a while, to disappear and not be bothered. A facetime, even a text, was too much effort. 

It wasn’t an issue, or so he’d thought. Until he’d gone to use the bathroom at the gym one day and had a text from her waiting on his phone. A picture of her swapping spit with some rich prick that went to a private school across the city. “He took my phone and sent it,” she tried to explain. As if that made it any fucking better. 

The same shit would happen with Historia. Everything would be fine, then one day he’d come back to the room and she’d be on Braun’s dick. 

Whatever. _Focus on the track in front of you, Porco._

Another fifteen minutes pass. His sneakers occasionally catch on the ground beneath him. His chest is burning. He can keep going. 

“Galliard.” Huh? His head swivels: Annie, soccer ball under her arm. He stops, stepping onto the turf field within the track. He’s panting profusely. It’s all he can do to stay upright. “How long have you been running?” 

“Don’t… know…” He can barely get the words out. 

“Hm. Can you pass a soccer ball?” She doesn’t seem impressed. 

“Give me… a minute.” 

“Yeah.” 

It’s more like five minutes, and his legs are wobbly, but he manages. Annie’s passes come at a blistering speed, but they’re on-target enough where stopping them isn’t too much of an issue. She’s quiet as well, which is a relief. He’s not in the mood for conservation, and talking _and_ keeping up with her passes might be too much to handle. 

It’s nice, actually. Annie sometimes pops his passes into the air, juggling the ball for a moment before volleying it back towards him. Marcel was really good at soccer too, though he never had any interest in pursuing it. Porco took up football as his fall sport, if only to avoid any comparisons to his older brother. They’d get bussed to a suburb outside of the city, where there was enough space to play. 

It’s unclear how long they’re out there, passing the ball back and forth. At some point Annie pops the ball up, as she’s done before, and catches it in her arms. “You’re not bad,” she says, walking over to him. 

“Thanks.” 

“You go to the gym often?” 

“Uh, yeah. Couple times a week. I try to plan it so I’m not constantly working the same stuff.” 

She nods. “Cool. I’ll have to join you soon.” 

“Yeah, sure.” He hadn’t exactly extended an invitation, but it’d be nice to have someone else with him. Especially someone as inoffensive as her. 

“Does Reiner ever join you?” There it is. This was all just to get to Reiner. What else would it be about? 

“No.” 

“Good,” she replies. Good? That’s it? It was music to his fucking ears. “He’s great and all, but physics lecture and lab are enough for me.” 

“Try living with him,” Porco mutters. 

Annie lets out a laugh, just one, almost like a bark, as she stuffs the soccer ball into her drawstring bag. 

“You coming to the party tonight?” Her eyebrow is raised, as though she knows what he wants to answer. He wants to say “fuck no” because that’d mean doing exactly what his dickhead roommate wants him to do. But Annie’s pretty cool. 

“Not sure. Crowds aren’t really my thing.” 

“Me too. Still, you should come.” 

Maybe he would. 

* * *

Galliard never returns to the room, which means he never gets to apologize. Last night must’ve gone even worse than he thought. Now the boy wasn’t going to go to the party, and he’d have to tell Historia some excuse about how he _definitely_ didn’t screw everything up. This was fine. Totally fine. 

He’s in Bert’s room in Whitney, waiting for him to finish getting ready. It really was a mess, just as his friend had described. Dirty laundry and empty food wrappers litter the other side of the room, Bert kicking them under the other bed as he moves around. Reiner had decided on a short sleeve button-up over a t-shirt, which meant Bert had to come up with something else to wear, supposedly. As if anyone at the party was going to pay them any attention. 

“This is cool, right?” He turns to look: a white t-shirt with khaki shorts and flip flops. Very ambitious. 

“Yeah, Bert, the ladies will be all over you,” he says, giving a nod. 

“You’re hilarious,” his friend replies. 

Historia and Ymir are waiting for them by the street, ready to make the walk over. Annie got to drive there, since she’s on the team. It was only a 10-minute walk anyways. 

Ymir taps Historia on the arm as they approach, drawing the girl from her phone. “Took you two long enough.” Both girls are wearing oversized Hawaiian shirts, though Historia’s is so big that Reiner can’t actually tell if she’s wearing pants or not. He feels both over and underdressed. 

“Sorry to keep you waiting,” says Bert, following the sidewalk down towards the main road. He has the address plugged into his phone so that they don’t get lost. 

“Is Galliard coming?” There’s the question. He’d hoped his roommate’s absence was answer enough. 

“He uh, said he wasn’t sure,” Reiner replies. “I haven’t seen him all day.” It was the truth, technically. Historia nods. If she’s disappointed, she hides it well. 

* * *

The house is just like every other house on the street, sort of old and in need of some work. It’s the kind of house you’d expect college students to live in. All the front windows are open, and the music is loud even at the foot of the driveway. 

Historia’s ran ahead to greet Annie, who’s sitting on the front steps. Ymir trails not far behind. 

Him and Bert haven’t moved. “Well… first time for everything?” 

His friend’s lips are pressed together, eyes widened. If his hands weren’t stuffed into his pockets Reiner’s sure they’d be shaking slightly. “Maybe this wasn’t a good idea, Reiner. I doubt they want freshman here.” 

“Annie said her teammates were cool with it. We can stick together, I promise.” Bert doesn’t seem convinced. 

“You guys coming?” It’s Annie, standing in the lawn now, waiting expectantly. She also has an oversized t-shirt on. That must be the style right now for girls. 

“Uh, yeah,” he replies. He turns and looks at Bert, who nods, deferring to Reiner’s judgment as he’s always done. 

“Cool. I gave the girls the rundown on where everything is. Ask one of them if you need something, or don’t.” 

The music is even more deafening inside the house, which is jam-packed full of other people. It’s all he can do to stay oriented, but then there’s a hand on his wrist, Historia’s, and he’s being pulled towards what is presumably the dance floor. He looks back towards Bert, his friend giving him a small wave but making no move to follow. _That coward._

The party is actually kinda fun, he realizes some time later. Ymir brought them fruit punch that’s way too sugary for his liking but hey, it’s a party. Other students have cans or bottles of beer, which definitely wasn’t his speed. He was having a good time without alcohol anyways. His skin is hot, but it’s nice. He’s happy; really happy. 

* * *

This must be the right house, judging by the sounds coming from it. Girls screaming, shitty music… it fit the bill. Everyone was gone from Maria when he finally decided to go back, thankfully. Showing up to this was painful enough, but getting ready with Reiner for it… no thanks. 

He'd decided on just a tank top and board shorts – no need to get fancy. And anyways, it was a house full of soccer girls. A little showing off never killed anyone. He didn’t need Reiner meddling in his affairs, and tonight would prove it. He could have Historia for all Porco cared. 

There’s an unread message on his phone, from Pieck: “are you at the party?” Was there anything she didn’t know about? 

“Just got here.” 

“ok. make good decisions :) text me if anything happens.” 

He sends a thumbs-up in response. Was all this necessary? Even his mom never cared what he got up to. It’s not like he hasn’t drank before, not that he was planning on getting shitfaced. Whatever. _Pieck’s probably just covering her own ass in case one of us ends up puking all over the place._ None of them were really the type, though. Definitely not Reiner, Bertolt or Annie. Maybe Historia. 

The front door is propped open by a speaker, so he heads inside, immediately dodging away from a girl that’s come flying down the stairs, red solo cup in hand. _Leave it to the athletes to get out of control._

“Galliard! You came!” Reiner is suddenly there, almost bumping into people as he approaches, wide smile on his face. He’s got a cup of his own. 

“Yeah, yeah,” Porco replies. “No need to freak out.” His roommate must’ve forgotten how they’d left things last night, how Porco had avoided him for all of today. 

“No, it’s great! It’s great.” Reiner’s voice is _loud_ , and higher pitched than usual, almost raspy, as though he’s been yelling for a while. He drapes his arm across Porco’s shoulders, hot and sweaty skin flush against the smaller boy’s neck. He leans in, as though Porco won’t be able to hear him over the music otherwise: “I’m really glad you came.” 

“Hmph.” His roommate is obviously drunk, speaking nonsense. “What’s in the cup?” 

“This? Fruit punch. It’s really good.” Reiner’s basically yelling into his ear. The music is loud, but not that loud. 

“I’m good. Thanks.” Brown eyes meet his own, the arm on him stiffening as they lock gazes. Reiner looks away after a few seconds, clearing his throat. His head tilts back slightly, red solo cup coming to his lips. His Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows, a stray droplet of fruit punch running down his cheek, hanging off his jaw. Porco almost reaches up to wipe it away. Almost. 

“Well, come on! Let’s dance!” Reiner’s arm shifts, dropping down across his back, large hand settling just above Porco’s waist. He’s practically being dragged towards Historia and Ymir now, but they haven’t noticed him yet it seems. There’s no way he’s going anywhere near Historia, not tonight. 

“I’m gonna get a drink, then I’ll be back.” A lie. _More like I’m gonna go hide somewhere._ He steps out of his roommate’s grip, that hand lingering on his waist even as he moves away. 

“Okay,” Reiner replies, knees and hips moving slightly with the beat of the song. He’s still standing there though, just fucking… staring at him, smiling softly, sweaty face glowing under the pink lights taped to the ceiling. His blonde mussed up hair has been painted a similar shade, practically begging to have hands run through it. Porco’s mouth is dry. He’s been staring back. 

_I need a drink._

* * *

“Galliard is here!” he says, yelling despite his worn-out voice. Historia cheers, throwing a hand into the air as she continues to dance, her hip bumping into Ymir. He’s been on cloud nine for the past… however long it’s been, and the party just got even better. He could scream he’s so happy. 

There’s a hand on his shoulder. He spins around, hoping, expecting that it’s his roommate. 

It’s Bertolt. 

“I’m gonna head back to Whitney,” he says, leaning in so that Reiner can hear him. “Annie said one of her teammates would drive us back. Do you want to come?” _Us?_

“No, this party is awesome!” 

“Reiner, are you okay?” Bert looks almost concerned. Why would he be concerned? 

“Yeah, never better! I’ll see you back at the dorm!” 

His friend stares at him, then pats him on the shoulder again. “Alright. Galliard is in the backyard, don’t know if you saw that he’s here.” He turns and heads towards the front door. 

Why was Galliard outside? Wasn’t he just getting a drink? 

“I LOVE THIS SONG!” Historia is jumping up and down, fruit punch splashing onto the floor. 

“ME TOO!” he yells back, finishing off his own drink. What song was it? 

* * *

It’s nice, in the backyard. Annie and Bertolt were sitting around a firepit when he got onto the back porch, but they headed inside when he walked over, apparently to head back to the dorms. Annie at least thanked him for coming. 

There were a couple other people outside, scattered around the big yard. Thick woods surrounded the house on every side except the front, their dark interior broken up only by faint streaks of moonlight. It’s a lot like his grandparents’ house, which was even further removed from society. The weeks he and Marcel spent there were the highlight of every summer. Life back home was always bustling, always moving. There was never any peace or privacy in their tiny apartment, or anywhere else in the city for that matter. He cracks his can of beer open, fizz spilling out and onto his finger. It tastes awful, of course. No one drinks it for the taste. 

They would spend all day outside, running around on bare feet. Their grandma would hoist them up onto the counter and scrub their feet in the sink, just before dinner. They’d laugh and squirm at how much it tickled. Marcel loved the outdoors, so Porco did too, naturally. It seemed like his big brother knew all there was to know, every bird call, every type of tree. He’d climb trees on occasion, and big ones too. Porco was always too scared to follow him up. He’d just wait for Marcel on the ground, watch how nimble he was, moving from branch to branch, higher and higher. One time he fell and broke his arm. He didn’t climb much after that. 

_So much for getting it in with the soccer girls._ He takes another swig of the beer. God, that tastes like shit. It had occurred to him that some of the girls might actually know Marcel, since he played club soccer or something like that at Reiss. It’d be weird, trying to slide in with someone that knew his brother; that knew what happened. 

Too much pity would be involved. He didn’t need that. 

His beer is long gone when someone finally disturbs him. He doesn’t even feel a slight buzz. “Oi, Porco.” It’s Ymir, on the back porch. “We have a situation.” 

“And?” How did she even know he was back here? 

“With blondie.” 

“Ah.” He stands, slowly. Big guy couldn’t handle his liquor, most likely. 

* * *

Reiner is totally shitfaced, to put it lightly. He’s slumped down in a chair on the front porch, his shirt stained with red fruit punch up by the collar. The button-up he had on earlier is gone, probably on the floor somewhere. Not worth recovering. 

“You guys let this happen?” he asks, turning to face Historia and Ymir. They’re just standing there, helpful as ever. 

Ymir puts her hands up. “Hey, I’m not getting in the way of anyone’s good time.” Historia nods, hiccupping. _She’s probably half a drink away from ending up on the ground herself._

There’s a hand grabbing his arm. “Galli…” Reiner’s head lolls, a lazy smile on his face as he looks up at him. Porco pulls his arm away. 

“How the fuck are we gonna get him back to the dorm?” 

“You mean how the fuck are _you_ gonna get him back to the dorm,” Ymir replies, poking a finger into his chest. “Hisu and I are staying here, it’s only 10pm.” 

“What? Why do I have to?” 

“Because you’re his roommate and weren’t partying anyways.” 

“Bu-” 

“ _And_ he wouldn’t stop moaning your name.” 

Historia giggles. Reiner grabs at his arm again. _This is fuckin impossible._

“Don’t worry, Galliard,” Historia starts. “One of Annie’s teammates will be back in a few minutes to drive you guys.” She pats his arm then heads back into the house, not sparing him a second glance. 

Ymir takes a step towards him, and her hand is moving before he can react. She swats him on the ass. “Look alive, Porky. Try to keep him from puking in the car.” She’s inside before he can swing back. 

* * *

Even if Reiner didn’t seem great in the chair, moving him to the car was an entirely different story. Porco remembers the first couple times he got drunk – he usually woke up on someone’s floor the next morning. Once you got to the dizzy phase all bets were off. There was nothing to be done except weather the storm. 

The storm for Porco in this case is his massive goddamn roommate. He basically had to support the other boy’s entire weight to get him into the car, and fuck, he was heavy. He’d tried to get into the front seat once Reiner was deposited into the back row, but was met with resistance by the girl driving: “You’re on puke duty. If he hurls, make sure it’s out the window.” 

Fucking awesome. 

So now he’s here, in the back row, with Reiner collapsed onto him. He’d heave the large boy towards the open window and not 10 seconds later he’d fall to the side again, threatening to sprawl across Porco’s lap if he wasn’t caught. 

“Galli,” the boy mumbles, head on Porco’s shoulder. “‘M sorry.” The fuck was he sorry for? 

“Sure.” 

The head on his shoulder shifts. Hot breaths tickle his jaw. “I’m sorry, Galli. I’m sorry.” 

He clicks his tongue, turning to face the other window. “Apology accepted, big guy.” His voice is low, so that the girl driving can’t hear him. No need for Annie to find out about this. 

“Mm.” Was Reiner… _nuzzling_ into him? Porco jerks involuntarily, short stubble tickling his collarbone, that soft blonde hair barely brushing against his neck. After a few moments Reiner settles in, apparently comfortable now. It’s not the worst position to be in, and they’re almost back to the dorm anyways, so Porco lets him rest. 

* * *

Getting Reiner to the car was fucking _nothing_ compared to the trip up the stairs. Three flights, just the two of them. He didn’t have Annie or Bertolt’s phone numbers, and he definitely wasn’t involving Pieck in this. Each step up the staircase is even heavier and more labored than the last. 

But they manage, somehow. He drops Reiner into his desk chair, plopping down into his own a moment later. His roommate is barely conscious at this point, but not 30 seconds after he’s sat down, he’s mumbling: “Need to pee.” _You’ve gotta be kidding._

He grabs Reiner’s hand, pulling him up to his feet. The blonde stumbles forward, his head falling onto Porco’s shoulder. He burps, then laughs. 

_God help me._

They maneuver back through the doorway, Porco wincing as Reiner’s head smacks into the metal door frame. _His head will hurt in the morning anyways._ The bathroom is empty, thankfully. He kicks one of the stalls open. “Alright, we’re here. You’ve gotta figure out the rest.” Reiner gives a weak nod, grabbing the top of the stall door as he stumbles into it. Porco pulls the door shut then stands guard, just in case anyone else enters. 

“Galliiiii” 

“Just shut up and piss.” 

More weak laughter. 

The peeing finally stops, then there’s the sound of a zipper, but Reiner isn’t moving. Knees hit the floor. Then the puking starts. 

“That’s it, big guy. Get it all out.” It was bound to happen, really. Reiner had definitely never had alcohol before. 

He was in rough shape the first time he came home drunk. Marcel stayed with him in the bathroom for what felt like hours, rubbing his back. He could almost look back on the night fondly. 

The puking continues intermittently for a couple more minutes, Porco swinging the door open once he’s reasonably sure it’s over. “All done?” 

Reiner turns and looks up at him; it’s a pretty miserable sight. He managed to get most of it in the toilet but… gross. Some was on his shirt, mixing with the fruit punch. Red liquid dribbles down his chin. 

“Alright, up.” The boy seems slightly more lucid now, just barely. Porco directs him towards the sink, reaching down to try and get his shirt off. There was no way he was putting him in bed covered in fruit punch and vomit. 

Reiner protests, weakly. Porco swats his hand away: “Dude, it’s nasty. Don’t be a baby.” The shirt comes up and off. 

Reiner is ripped. Like, completely fucking jacked. 

Holy shit. 

He’s got the nicest set of tits that Porco’s ever seen on a dude, fuck, maybe on anyone. There’s a faint dusting of hair in the center of his chest, where the fruit punch has dried. His torso is fucking solid, abs practically carved out of marble, tapering in towards his waist. What the fuck? Porco knew he was big, but this… this is something else. 

He tears his eyes away from the boy, moving to grab paper towels from the dispenser by the door. As he turns to head back to the sink, he sees Reiner bracing himself on the counter, leaning over slightly. 

There, on his upper back. And his shoulders. And his arms. Thin slices of pale skin, discolored. Some small, others longer, curving, raised slightly, sharp brushstrokes on an otherwise blank canvas. Scars. They’re all scars. It’s a frightening sight. How…? 

He’d absently noted that Reiner never changed around him, but that was fine, not that unusual. Some people just weren’t comfortable with it. But this wasn’t about comfort. This was a breach of trust. A violation of Reiner’s privacy. Porco didn’t know- It doesn’t matter. He shouldn’t be seeing this. 

“What the fuck?” 

The door is open. Someone’s in the doorway, frozen. Brown hair. Floch. 

“Get out.” The boy still hasn’t moved, still standing in place. “Out, Forster. Now.” Porco’s teeth are gritted, jaw clenched. He’s trying not to yell, trying not to lunge at the boy. Floch looks at him, then back at his roommate. He leaves. Porco lets out a breath, his hands shaking. He turns back towards Reiner. 

“…Let’s just get you cleaned up.” He’s talking to himself more than anything, spurring his feet, his hands, to move. He can’t just put the shirt back on, they’ll be back in the room in a minute. He’s at the sink, wetting the paper towels, wiping Reiner’s chin, his chest. Tears well in his eyes- why? Anger and fear and confusion- it was fine, he just needed to finish this, just needed to act quickly. 

But the damage was done. 

Porco throws the paper towels down into the sink, running his wet hands over his face, pulling at his hair. He wants to put his fist through the mirror. 

He fucked up. He really, really, really fucked up. There’s a tightness in his chest, threatening to crush him, to squeeze the air from his lungs. 

“Galli.” Reiner’s looking at him, still leaned over the sink. He doesn’t know, not yet. 

“I’m sorry.” It’s almost a whisper. “Let’s get you to bed.” 

Reiner’s arm over his shoulder now, and he’s pulling the boy’s torso into his, just like at the party. Reiner had been so happy at the party. The room feels like it’s spinning, but it isn’t, he just hasn’t breathed. His chest hurts, it aches, like there’s a spear running right through him. He fucked up. 

The hallway is clear. Porco uses his free hand to grab a clean shirt from the Reiner’s dresser, slipping it onto him. With a mighty heave he gets the larger boy into bed, lying face down. Porco pulls a desk chair over to the window, taking the garbage can with him, in case the puking starts again. He feels numb. 

What were those scars from? How did Reiner get them? Sweet, careful Reiner, stretching for five minutes just to toss a frisbee around. The pain he must’ve felt. The pain he was going to feel tomorrow. Any agency Reiner had, about how those scars got there, about their mere existence, was gone. Porco had seen to that, and there was no taking it back. _What the fuck am I gonna tell him?_

Reiner’s head is facing towards him, arm hanging off the bed. His eyes are barely cracked open. “Night, Galli.” His arm comes up, weakly, hand outstretched. 

Porco grabs the hand with his own, gently squeezing. “Night.” They stay there, staring, looking. Hands locked. He’d never be able to look Reiner in the eye again, not after what he did. He lets the hand drop. 

Hours pass, probably, before he falls asleep. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The scene from season 2 between Reiner and Ymir was just too good to not include in some way. I also enjoyed writing Porco as totally clueless regarding the existence of non-straight people. Even in what feels like an obvious situation- nope! But I've had interactions basically word-for-word like that with guys in my own life, so hey, it can happen! It helps that my college experience is still ongoing and fresh in my mind so I can just steal things that have happened irl and toss them in here as scenes.
> 
> It felt weird calling Historia and Ymir's shirts "Hawaiian" since I haven't really cemented where the story actually takes place, but I didn't know what else to call them!
> 
> Poor Reiner, also. The night was going so well!
> 
> I hope y'all liked the chapter, as always.


	6. At Arm's Length

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Let's just say a hangover isn't the only thing our boys have to deal with.
> 
> CW for this chapter: descriptions of child abuse, scarring, bodily harm, panic attacks, triggering of past trauma, and use of homophobic slur

Man, his head hurts. His arms flex outwards instinctively, recoiling slightly upon contact with the chilly morning air. His body aches, sore, now that he’s moved a little, and there’s a bitter taste in his mouth. Cargo shorts brush against his inner thigh. Why were they still on? What happened last night? They were at the party; he was dancing with Historia and Ymir, and Galliard was there, but it’s spotty after that. A car ride. Familiar deodorant flooding his senses. Skin touching skin, every point of contact sparking alight like dry kindling. Galliard had looked good- no, more than good, _way_ more than good. 

There’s a weight in his pocket – his phone. It’s just after 7 in the morning. _Thirteen unread text messages?_

“Let me know when you get back to Maria.” Bert, of course. “Reiner, please text me back. Are you alright?” Why was he so worried? 

“blondie couldn’t hang.” Ymir, in the group chat. She also sent a picture of him, looking totally out of it, slumped over in a chair. Below that is a selfie of her and Historia dancing. _She’s definitely going to make fun of me, later._ She was going to make fun of him regardless; this photo was just more ammunition. 

“Didn’t I warn you about the fruit punch?” Annie. What was in the fruit punch? Alcohol? Drugs? _What would mom think?_ She’d probably lecture him, or just stare until he’d apologized four times over. _Not sure which is worse._

There’s no point in reading the rest of the back-and-forth between his friends, Reiner decides, sitting up, pushing his hair back. It got all matted down overnight. He sends a quick “I’m alive” to Bert, just to put his friend’s mind at ease. The boy would probably kick their door down if he didn’t wake up to some confirmation that him and Galliard made it back to the dorm safely. 

Galliard. His roommate is sitting, still asleep, in a chair next to the bed. He’s slid forward slightly, head leaned against the back support, mouth open. It doesn’t look like a very comfortable position. Reiner must’ve puked, judging by the garbage can on the floor next to him. That explains the taste in his mouth. Had Galliard stayed there all night? _It’s still early. I should wake him so he can move to his bed._

“Hey.” He leans over, shaking the boy’s bare shoulder, like on the mornings when they get breakfast together. Galliard awakens slowly, feet pushing off the floor to correct his position in the chair. Toned arms flex, stretching, exposing lightly haired armpits. It’s almost unfair, really, how good he looks doing something so mundane. “It’s only 7:15,” Reiner explains. “If you wanted to sleep in your own bed.” 

“Mm.” Galliard stands, moving to return the garbage can to its original spot by his desk. He stays there, head hanging, facing towards the opposing wall. It’s not unusual, though. He’s always grumpy in the morning, and quiet too. 

“Thanks, by the way, for getting me back here last night.” His roommate’s shoulders stiffen, as though he’s bracing against an incoming blow. “I’m sorry that you had to leave the party early,” Reiner continues, hoping the apology will put the boy at ease. He still hasn’t moved though. Down by his waist, his hands are balled into fists, knuckles white. His whole body is tense, like a loaded spring. This isn’t normal. Something must be wrong. 

It feels as though there’s a pit in his stomach. He was hungry, just five seconds ago, but there’s only nausea now. Did he do something last night, when he was drunk? Did he say something that he shouldn’t have? _Did I come out to him? Is that it?_ His thoughts are racing a mile a minute, palms slick with sweat. He absently grabs the hem of his shirt to dry his hands. 

But he’s stuck, frozen, as though his limbs are no longer his own. 

This isn’t the shirt he wore to the party, it’s blue. The shirt he wore last night was grey. 

There was no way he changed, not intentionally. Even drunk, some things were surely hard coded into his brain. Which means- 

“Galliard.” The words barely slip out, taking with them any breath remaining in his lungs. It’s a plea for reassurance, for Galliard to tell him that nothing is wrong, that he’s imagining things. His hands, his arms, are shaking, and they won’t stop, vision blurring now too. A single tear escapes, caught by blue fabric, the wrong fabric. Then he’s choking, gasping for air, desperately trying to rein himself in, to slam this door shut. 

“Reiner.” 

His name. It would sound nice, under different circumstances, rolling off his roommate’s tongue for the first time. Another tear rolls down his cheek as he looks up, seeking comfort, a warm embrace. 

But Galliard can’t even bear to look at him, his own blue eyes cast to the side. “I- I’m sorry, Reiner.” It’s his name again, lower this time. “When I was cleaning you off last night, I…” The sentence peters out, going nowhere. He knows what’s supposed to follow: shallow pity, disgust, contempt. 

“…Floch saw too.” 

The words hardly register. That can’t be true, it’s not possible, he’s been careful, so careful, and now- There’s nothing. He’s numb, shaking, hands gripping the comforter, holding on for dear life. This wasn’t happening. His throat is tight, each breath a struggle. It’s as though he’s caught in a riptide, pulled back into the surf just as he comes up for air. There is no reprieve, no safe harbor. 

“I’ll… give you some space,” Galliard says, turning, leaving. The door to their room closes. He’s alone. 

But it’s not their room anymore. He’s in the passenger seat of a car, a pickup truck, engine rattling under the hood. His feet just barely reach the floor. They’re in the driveway, but the car is still running; the doors are still locked. There’s someone in the driver’s seat – he knows who – one hand clutching the wheel, jaw clenched. It was a silent ride home. He got cut from the football team after the first practice. 

It’s the principal’s office now, at school. “Who did this to you?” He shakes his head; he isn’t supposed to say. The principal sighs, kneeling down so that their eyes are level. One of Reiner’s is swelled shut, black and bruised, his lip split to match. “I can’t help if you don’t tell me, Reiner.” There’s a lump in his throat. He opens his mouth, chokes out the words, just two. He shouldn’t have. 

Then Mom is at school, walking him back to her car. Her hand clutches his with an iron grip. It hurts. “Reiner, do you know what you’ve done?” He doesn’t, not fully. “The police came. They took him in for questioning.” The police? Why were they involved? “I don’t know what we’re going to do.” Her voice is shaking, even if she tries to hide it. 

An injury from football tryouts is what he’d told them, supposedly. There wasn’t enough evidence to prove otherwise. Mom wouldn’t say anything, for risk of further scandal, of further punishment. He’d been released. He was heading home. 

The door slammed hard enough to shake the house, booted footsteps stomping on tile floor. His name, Reiner’s name, screamed, loud enough to reach him upstairs hiding under the bed. Better to go now, before his name is called again. It’ll only be worse if he delays the inevitable. Mom is there, in the living room, hands tucked neatly on her lap. One of her cheeks is red. Better to take the punishment. Always better. 

“I didn’t raise no fuckin _pansy_.” That voice, he can remember it even now, sharp, venomous. “I’ve tried, lord knows I’ve tried to make a man out of you, but some things can’t be helped.” A “yes sir” is all he manages; all he can think to say. Better to go along with it. There’s a hand on his shirt, pulling him close. No one ever got away with grabbing Superman’s shirt. “No son of mine would ever end up such a fag, can’t face his own problems, can’t even make the fucking football team.” He doesn’t know what that word means, not yet, but Superman always faced his own problems. “Crying to the fucking principal because you don’t have the balls to face me, the balls to not be a goddamn failure for once in your life.” Better to stay silent, to take it. Even if Superman wouldn’t. 

Silence didn’t help him. 

There’s a harsh blow across his face, he’s being lifted into the air. Something shatters – the coffee table, the glass coffee table – and all he can feel is a blinding pain. Mom is screaming now, and he’s screaming too, but the pain won’t stop, it’s all there is, all there’s ever been. More screaming, yelling, falling on deafened ears. Mom is above him, kneeling despite the broken glass, hands bloodied – his blood? 

That was the last day Reiner saw him. He’d been given space then too, by his mom, by the rest of his family. He wasn’t allowed to see Bert for months, not until he was healed, not until every tiny shard of glass had been picked out of him, constantly reopening the wound. Eight and a half years Reiner hadn’t seen him, that man, and not a day went by when he didn’t feel the residual bite of years of silent car rides, of accepting his punishment, of never being good enough despite his best efforts. Even as he put on muscle in blind pursuit of some perfect ideal, to please a man long since gone, a man who had only ever showed him vitriol and scorn, who scarred him on and beneath the surface – it was never going to be enough. 

And it was always space through high school too, always a wide berth from his peers, save Bertolt, only coming close enough to make some snide comment or rude remark. And he’d taken it, every abuse, every taunt, every jeer. He’d taken all of them in stride, had done his best to brush them off, to keep moving forward. It was hard to pretend that they didn’t hurt, that his skin was bulletproof. College was supposed to be different, a new start. But that was never going to last, not for someone like him. 

“I don’t want space,” he wants to say, to Galliard. He’s always had space, too much space; always had to bear the brunt of his emotions alone. 

But the room is empty; Galliard is gone. 

* * *

He’s furious with himself, with the way he just stood there like a fucking idiot. He should’ve said something, said anything worthwhile, anything to try and help even the slightest amount. But he got scared. And he ran. Again. All he had to do was say that it didn’t matter, whatever was on Reiner’s back, however it got there. _Is that the right thing to say? Should it matter?_ There’s no point in debating it now. He had his chance to try and make things better, and it was gone, long gone. 

He’s heading down the hall, on autopilot. Is Pieck awake? It doesn’t matter, because she’s about to be. Her door swings open after the third knock, which is more like a frantic banging. “Porco? What’s wrong? Why are you up this early?” She looks scared. 

Words threaten to come out, all at once. About how he’s scared, how he hurt him, how he hadn’t meant to. Porco swallows them down. 

“I… It’s Reiner. I messed up. I really really messed up.” 

“Where is he? Is he okay?” 

“He’s… in the room. I don’t know, Pieck, I fucked up, I don’t know what to do.” His voice breaks, like he wants to sob. The anger he felt has given way to fear, to remorse, an impossible weight on his shoulders. But this isn’t about him. 

“Wait in my room then,” she says, brushing by without another word. 

He knew, last night, that this is what would happen. Sitting there, Reiner’s hand in his own, wishing that they could stay in that moment just a little longer… he knew that this was the end result. He was always going to run away from the mess he made, always going to leave it for someone else to clean up. 

Pathetic. 

* * *

Pieck feared that something would go wrong, though it was more along the lines of one of the freshmen having a bit too much to drink. Porco looked… terrified. Whatever had happened must’ve been worse than just one drink too many. 

Her knuckles are soft against the wooden door, not wanting to startle the boy inside. “Reiner? It’s Pieck. May I come in?” 

She hears sniffling, then a shaky “yes,” and cracks the door open slowly. Reiner is still in bed, knees pulled to his chest. His eyes are puffy, red. He’s been crying. He’s still crying. 

“Porco came and got me,” she explains, pulling the desk chair out so that she can sit down and face him. “He didn’t tell me anything though, and you don’t need to either, okay?” He nods, weakly, wiping the back of his hand across his nose. 

He’s just a boy, Pieck thinks, underneath his bulky stature and outward confidence. Just a boy, afraid, alone. 

They sit in silence, neither speaking. Reiner’s unsteady breaths are the only noise between them, the comforter rustling as he shifts on occasion. Pieck lets her eyes wander around the room, trying to give him space, to not pressure him. It was fine if he didn’t want to say anything about what happened. Sometimes just being present was enough. 

When her grandmother died suddenly, and no one had even told Pieck that she was sick… she was inconsolable. Talking about it was never going to help – nothing would bring her grandma back, would let her say goodbye. But her high school friends had been there for her, just coming over to her house to sit in her room and read with her, or knit, little things, little distractions. It helped, a lot. Hopefully, it would help Reiner too. 

“You like Green Day?” she asks, gaze falling on the tapestry for what must be the 10th time. It’s a harmless question. An easy diversion. 

“W-what?” 

“The band.” Her hand comes up, pointing to the wall above the boy’s bed. Porco’s side of the room is empty, of course. 

“Oh. I- not really,” he says, voice a little steadier now. “I just… thought it would help me fit in.” 

Pieck can’t help the giggle that comes out of her. Reiner’s knees retreat closer to his chest. Her heart aches seeing him like this, so withdrawn. 

“No, no, I’m sorry. I wasn’t laughing at you. That’s… really cute, is all.” He relaxes slightly, pulling the comforter up to dry his cheeks. “And I get it, freshman year can be weird, not knowing who you’re living with. I waited until the third week to bring my fish tank to school, just to be sure my roommate wasn’t going to freak out about it.” 

Reiner nods again, still sniffling, still shaking slightly. “I don’t… I don’t want Galliard to blame himself,” he replies, each word coming out slowly, carefully. “It wasn’t his fault.” _That’s not what Porco thinks._

“Do you want me to tell him that?” 

“I… No. I can tell him.” Porco probably wouldn’t believe her if she told him that anyways. No, he needed to hear it from Reiner, though getting him to come back was another matter entirely. _I’ll be lucky if he’s even still in my room._

She grabs the bed post, pulling herself up to stand. “I’ll go get him, then.” 

* * *

He’s on her couch, thankfully, when she returns. It’s a sad sight: leaned forward, elbows on his knees, hands over his face. He doesn’t react even as she sits down next to him. This wasn’t going to be easy. 

“Reiner would like to speak with you.” 

His response is muffled, face still obscured: “Not a good idea.” 

“He didn’t tell me anything, just that he doesn’t blame you.” 

“I’ll just make it worse.” His tone is flat, unyielding. _He’s convinced himself that this is how it has to play out._

“Is that so?” Pieck’s trying to be patient, trying to ease him into this. There’s only so much she can do to help Reiner by herself. Porco is a necessary piece to this puzzle. 

“‘M not good for anything else,” he mumbles, flinching as a hand is placed on his shoulder. 

“I don’t care, Porco.” Her patience has a limit. “Two weeks ago, Reiner came to me. He felt like you weren’t happy here, and he wanted to know why.” Porco’s hands drop, revealing his face, finally. _He’s listening, at least._ It didn’t feel fair, bringing this up, but given the circumstances Reiner will hopefully forgive her. “I didn’t tell him about Marcel, because it’s not my place to. I only told him that it wasn’t his problem.” 

There’s no response at first, just his lips deepening into a frown. “Some RA you are,” Porco finally says. 

“Just hear me out. Reiner said that it _was_ his problem, that he hadn’t had it easy either. He cares about you; can’t you see that? And judging by the state you’re in, you care about him too. I get it, you hurt him, and it sucks, and you can never take it back.” She’s laying it on now, prodding, goading him into action, a reaction, anything. _Moping in here won’t help anyone._

“I know, alright?” he snaps, standing up from the couch. “What the hell do you want me to say?” His blue eyes are glassy when he turns to face her, a hand pulling at his hair. “I was never good at all this shit, not like Marcel was, so you don’t have to fuckin remind me. All I had to do was get him back to the dorm last night, and I barely even managed that.” His breaths are sharp, rapid, voice cracking under stress. “He was so happy at the party, and it was just a car ride, a trip up the stairs, and, and… I fucked up, Pieck. I didn’t know any better and I fucked it all up.” A hand stretches across his brow, blocking his eyes, but the tears streaking down his face betray him. “…I can’t be what Reiner needs. I can’t be what _anyone_ fucking needs, so don’t ask for that shit.” 

“Porco…” It’s hard to stay calm, to keep her voice level, to not cry too. “Reiner doesn’t expect you to take it back. He just wants you to be there, to know that you care about him.” 

She stands, reaching out, running her thumb over his knuckles. He’s still panting, still tense. 

“No one is expecting you to be Marcel,” she says quietly, voice wavering. “If he were here, I’m sure he’d be angry at you for even thinking that. Look at me, Porco.” His eyes are blown wide, wet with emotion. “You don’t have to be Marcel, okay? You never did. Reiner needs _you_ right now, no one else.” 

And she’s crying now too, unable to ignore her own bottled-up grief any longer. Then arms are around her, a nose in her hair, chest beneath her swelling with uneven, shallow breaths. For a moment, just a moment, it’s him, that same deodorant. But it’s not him, and it doesn’t have to be. This is enough. 

Shallow breaths deepen, eventually, finding a steady rhythm. The arms around her drop. 

“Do you want me to come with you?” 

“I… I’ll try, on my own.” There’s a damp spot on his tank top, from her tears. He grins, just a small one, as the door swings open. It’s a sad grin. “Thank you, Pieck.” Then he’s gone. 

She’s exhausted, despite just waking up. But it’s not a bad feeling. 

* * *

His hand wavers above the doorknob. _I have to do this._ He can’t run away again, not now. It’d be easy to crush the paper towels he got in his grip, to drop them, turn around and leave. The stairwell is only steps away. 

Blonde hair comes into view first, as he enters their room. Reiner is still in bed. His eyes snap up as Porco closes the door behind him. Those brown eyes, so usually full of life, look empty, red around the edges. _I caused this._

“…Hi.” Reiner is the first to speak, voice straining, rough. _From the crying. From me._

“Hi.” 

“I wasn’t sure if… you w-were gonna come back.” The words cut him deep, to the bone. _What he must think of me._

“Yeah. Sorry. I was… talking with Pieck.” 

“Did she t-tell you anything?” The boy’s whole body is shaking, visible from across the room. 

“Not really.” He told Pieck he would try. Is this trying? _What a joke._ “I, uh, got you some paper towels,” he says, feet finally moving. “Just in case.” 

Unsteady hands brush his own as Reiner reaches out for them. “T-thanks.” He blows his nose, wipes his eyes. 

Their eyes take turns darting up, seeking contact, only to flee when contact is made. It’s infuriating, how powerless he feels. He’s terrified, so unsure of himself, like each word out of his mouth is going to be the wrong one. 

But none of that matters. This isn’t about how he feels. 

It’s unclear which of the two of them is more surprised as Porco climbs onto his roommate’s bed, sitting by the other boy’s feet. The old bed frame creaks under their combined weight. It’s gusting outside, howling just beyond the window. 

“I shouldn’t have run out… earlier,” he starts, kneading his hands together, staring at his lap. “I’m not great at all this stuff.” 

“Y-you don’t have to-” 

“I get it, if you hate me. I wouldn’t blame you.” His voice is quiet, easier to control at this volume; easier to keep in check. “I’ve been shit to you the whole time we’ve been here, and you’ve only ever been nice to me. You really won the roommate lottery, I guess.” His lips are pressed into a line, holding it all in. “I could swap rooms, probably. Me for Bertolt… You’d be better off.” Nails dig into his palm. He just needs to focus on that feeling, on the pain. It’s easier like this. 

“…Is that what you want?” His roommate sounds scared. He’s scared too, of that question, of what it might mean. 

“It doesn’t matter what I want.” _Even now, he has to be nice._

Reiner’s response is low, just a mutter: “It does to me.” 

Porco wants to get angry, to shout. He deserves worse than this. He _deserves_ to be hated. It doesn’t make sense, Reiner _never_ made sense, not to him. 

“I hurt you, okay? You don’t owe me anything. I could do all of your stupid homework for the next four years and it still wouldn’t fix what I’ve done. …Nothing can fix what I’ve done.” He’d be drawing blood by now, if his nails weren’t trimmed. They press in harder. 

“…I know. There’s nothing anyone can do.” The words strip him of his guard, leaving him raw, exposed. It’s a different kind of pain, this sad acknowledgement, a dull knife in his chest. Hatred would be easier. “Just… don’t look at me differently, please, n-now that you know. Everyone always looks at me as though I had any say in all of this.” Reiner’s voice breaks, but he continues: “It’s stupid to pretend it never happened, I know it is, but I’m so tired, Galliard. I just want it all to stop.” He’s crying again, chest heaving with each ragged breath. 

_I did this._ There is no punishment that could ever fit this crime, not to him. 

Porco shuffles closer on the bed, thigh touching his roommate’s shins. His hand slides across the comforter, searching. Fingers bump fingers, then he’s holding them, squeezing them, refusing to let go. 

“I want…” The words trail off as Reiner looks up. What does he want? It shouldn’t matter, and it never really has; his wants, his feelings, have always been a burden he hated to share, even with Marcel. If he ignored them for long enough they’d go away, and it was easier like that. But now he’s bursting at the seams and nothing makes sense anymore. He hurt Reiner, last night, and he hurt him again by leaving, by taking the easy way out. 

Nothing that his roommate did was ever easy, ever a shortcut. He’d reached out for him, over and over and over, inviting him places, going to Pieck, asking how his day was, even trying to set him up with Historia. And Porco had been an ass for all of it. It wouldn’t fix what he’d done, not by a long shot, but maybe it was time he reached out too. 

“Reiner, I… I don’t deserve your forgiveness.” It hurts to speak, to get the words out, barely a whisper. “But I want to stay, to try and make this right.” The wind is still howling outside, stormfront on the horizon, slowly rolling in. “I’ll stay, Reiner, if that’s what you want, too.” 

Then there’s a head pressed into the crook of his neck, that same stubble dragging against his skin. Their bodies rock in sync as the larger boy sobs into him, arms around each other. His hand combs through blonde hair slowly, fingertips gentle against the other boy’s scalp. There’s no thought to it, no intention, no uncertainty. It just makes sense. 

He’ll stay, as long as Reiner needs him. Even if he doesn’t deserve to. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First and foremost, I would like to THANK each and every one of you that has read this, gave it a kudos, commented, what have you. I am so unbelievably surprised and happy with the response this has gotten so far, and I really can't say thank you enough. Y'all are awesome.
> 
> And hoo boy, this chapter feels like a real special one to say thank you with. I thought chapter 5 was hard to write, but that feels like a cake walk now. It's really freakin difficult for me to get down all these feelings in a way that's coherent and emotionally impactful. I did my best with it, and I hope you all enjoyed!


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